


The world doesn't stop turning just because we need it to

by hopelessly_me



Series: Life is what you make it [2]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Avenger Natasha, Baker Clint, Brock and Jack meet ugly but it's a funny story I swear, Brock just wants a bird, Clint does magical things when left on his own, Clint is not an Avenger but hell if he doesn't have to step up, Established Relationship, F/M, Fade to Black, Hulk can be a cuddly guy, Insecure Clint, JARVIS is a good bro, Lucky the pizza dog - Freeform, Mild Language, Mission Gone Wrong, Nat is secretly a dog fan but don't tell anyone, Painting Class, Protective Natasha, Soulmates, Talking Things Over, Wanda and Pietro are good kids in a bad situation, Worried Clint, Worried Jack, a non-apology cake, annoyed Brock, avengers mission, brief scene of animal abuse, chapter lengths vary greatly, closed off Natasha, comfort over a soulbond, earworm songs, gotta love Hydra (not), hanging out with the boys, scheming Natasha and Brock, sentinels are the worst, soulbond, tracksuit mafia - Freeform, worried Brock, worried Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28790313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me
Summary: Clint and Natasha’s relationship is going great- it’s not that they don’t have their down days, but the ups are worth it. But when a mission took a dramatic turn for the team, Clint and Natasha’s relationship alters until they can find the balance again.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Brock Rumlow, Clint Barton & Jack Rollins, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins & Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanov & Brock Rumlow
Series: Life is what you make it [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101116
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21
Collections: WTF Philippines Relief 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> A continuation of "The Reason I'm still holding on" for Kali for my WTF (what2finish) auction. Thanks for answering really weird questions so I could put some extra magic in here. <3

Ear worm songs were the worst. You think you are having a nice stroll then BAM! Dancing Queen by ABBA is suddenly the only thing you can hear, think, or hum to. Or sometimes it’s Nicki Minaj, or Britney Spears. And then sometimes-

“I swear to God, I will lock you in the freezer overnight,” Jack threatened out of sheer frustration. Clint looked up from his work, slowly lowering the piping bag. Jack didn’t look mad, but he certainly didn’t look happy either. He held Clint’s gaze, as if waiting for Clint to continue whatever it was that was bothering him.

“Uh- What?” Clint asked. He set the balls of his hands down on the table.

“Five hours of fucking Baby Shark, Barton. Five hours,” Jack said, his normally stoic face turning grumpier by the moment. “You have been humming it all day.”

Ear worms, they really were the worst. “Well excuse me for working on a baby shark cake. It comes with the territory,” Clint said, smiling more by the second. “Would you rather I serenade you with my musical talents?” Clint leaned forward a bit, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Jack with a dopey grin.

“I have heard you sing,” Jack said dryly. He sighed and leaned back. “And just because you are designing a baby shark cake didn’t mean you had to look up what it was.”

“I beg to differ,” Clint argued with a laugh. “Any good artist knows that you have to have a good references.”

“Any good friend knows that baby shark should _never_ be sung, or hummed- nothing is good about baby shark.” Jack collected his things, a hint of a smile starting to peek out. At least he was becoming amused by the argument. “Come on, oh great and worthy artist. We are going to be late.”

Clint checked his watch before he launched himself into clean up mode. He had lost track of time- he always did when he was decorating a cake. So he cleaned up his station and carefully stored the cake, setting an alarm on his phone to wake up a little earlier in order to finish it up before the client came in to pick it up. Not to brag, but he could probably do clean up with his eyes closed by now, he was so familiar with the kitchen.

“See you at six,” Jack said, walking to the front, Clint hot on his heels. “Bryce, don’t forget to lock up tonight.”

“You got it boss,” one of the employees said, waving him off.

Clint got outside and tilted his face up into the sun. It had been an early morning kinda day where the sun still was asleep when Clint had made it into work. It wasn’t exactly abnormal, being a baker meant early days, even if Clint hated early morning. But it all made it worth it when Clint got to rotate into talking to the customers.

Normally after work Clint would find a cafe to sit in, consume his weight in coffee and sandwiches before he would make his way home. Today was different though. Today he headed straight home to shower and eat a small snack before a night out with Brock, Jack, and Natasha. It was mostly Clint’s idea, much to Brock and Natasha’s dismay- he just really wanted to take one of those painting classes. He needed to break up their double date out to a bar routine. There were only so many Natasha-Brock drinking contests he could stand to watch before it became a little shameful.

It was the middle of fall in New York City, Halloween fast approaching. Clint knew of a few parades that happened around the city, usually on different days leading up to the holiday. He considered going alone but he figured tonight he could convince Natasha to attend an event with him. Most of what he was decorating in the shop, and checking over other bakers’ orders were for Halloween parties. In fact, he was supposed to start making the desserts for the annual Halloween event the Avengers hosted.

A small thrill went through the soulbond, a nervous high, and Clint smiled as he dodged people to get into the subway. Natasha always seemed to get the jitters before a night out. It wasn’t that she was nervous, Clint rarely felt her become actually, truly nervous. This was more of a silent questioning that he was getting used to- if this was a good idea, if someone was going to track her down and cause trouble in civilian property. So Clint sent back the calmest energy he could back. _I’ll be right there with you_. It was the same thing he would tell her as he pressed his lips to her cheek, reassuring her that she deserved time away and that everything would be fine.

It was well past two years now that Clint had met Natasha, finally finding the person he had known about since he was around the age of six. It hadn’t been easy, it still wasn’t easy at times, but the ups were outweighing the downs more and more every day. Whoever said that having a soulmate was easier was a damn liar. It took just as much work as not having one, but the love was deeper, and there was a connection there that was hard to resist.

The quick walk from the subway system to the Tower only took him moments. He looked up at the shining windows, the first few floors dedicated to festive lights and scenes before it went back to all business. Minus the Avengers sign near the top- Clint knew that at night that lit up in oranges and purples. Clint still needed to ask Tony how he had done it because he absolutely loved it.

“Hey J,” Clint greeted the moment he walked into Avengers Tower.

“ _Welcome home, Mr. Barton. Your day was enjoyable I assume?_ ” the AI system asked. Clint loved Jarvis with all his heart- Tony had programmed the AI to be as polite as your stereotypical British butler with the sassy of a thousand Starks. Jarvis might have been his favorite thing about the Tower, excluding Natasha of course. He was pretty sure he was required to say or think that though.

“Oh yeah, you know, the same,” Clint said as he stepped into the elevator. “I hope your day was good as well. Convince Tony to take a shower today?” Clint asked, half teasing and half curious.

“ _Sir thankfully took a shower without too much prodding._ ”

“I’m not even sure how to handle that remark to be honest,” Clint answered.

“ _I would suggest taking it in whichever manner brings you the most enjoyment.”_

“I usually do.” The elevator stopped and Clint walked stepped off into the hallway. “Alright J, talk to you later!” Clint knew as soon as he reached their suite that Jarvis was taken down to bare essentials, Natasha not overly fond of the AI system.

The door leading into their shared apartment was decorated with cheap tape splattered in fake blood warning visitors away. Clint was surprised that Natasha had let him put it up, and even more surprised when she allowed _some_ basic decorations inside their apartment. Nothing could be too vivid and gory, which Clint understood- he probably wouldn’t have liked it either in her line of work.

“Hey, I’m home!” Clint called as he closed the door behind him. He stopped next to the door and looked around.

Candles were laid out everywhere, still lit, giving their apartment a warm yet dim glow. The table was set like they were going to be having dinner there, fresh flowers in vases scattered about.

“Welcome home.”

Clint’s eyes focused on the hallway leading down to their bedroom and couldn’t help but to get a quirky smile on his face. Natasha was sporting a black robe and Clint had a good idea what was under it, if anything at all.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” Natasha asked, walking forward, a little sway in her steps before she touched his chest with one hand.

“Not going to work, stop it,” Clint laughed, taking her hand and pulling it up to kiss her knuckles. “Get dressed, Romanoff. I’ll blow out the candles.”

Natasha’s face turned down into a pout. “Oh come on!” she whined playfully.

“A plus effort but absolutely nothing is getting you out of this painting class,” Clint said firmly. “We have reservations where we are supposed to meet Jack and Brock.”

“What if Brock convinces Jack not to go?” Natasha asked with a little too much innocence.

Clint studied her face for a moment. He didn’t bother reaching out to the soulbond. “... you two are plotting against us!” he exclaimed, faking offense. “I regret the day you two became friends.” Natasha’s face had that small smile there, that fondness behind her eyes and he hugged her tightly. “Missed you today.”

Natasha’s arms snaked around Clint as she tucked her head down against him. “Missed you too. Are you sure we can’t-”

“Clothes,” Clint said loudly, slowly, drawing it out.

“See if I ever do all this work again,” Natasha teased, stepping back. She gave him a bigger smile before she headed back down the hallway.

Clint watched her until she disappeared into their bedroom before he shook his head. “Jarvis, can you turn on my music please?” he requested. Clint’s steps faltered as soon as the first song came on. “Hey! You’re not allowed to text Jack! He’s off limits! He’s my friend!” Clint shouted at Natasha as Baby shark started to play. Above it all he could hear Natasha’s laughter and what he thought was a dresser moving. “... you okay?”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about it,” Natasha called back to him. Clint had to hold back his laughter as he shook his head.

By the time Natasha came out, dressed down in jeans and a loose fitting sweater, Clint had managed to blow almost all of the candles out and put them all in the center of the room, hoping a fire wouldn’t start. He looked up at her and winked before he stood up, holding the last candle out.

“Together?” he asked.

Natasha got that quirky small smile back on her lips, something more shy behind her eyes as she inched closer. It was one of her reserved looks, something she only did when it was the two of them. Her hands slid along Clint’s, cradling them as she leaned closer. “You’re a romantic.”

“You already knew that,” Clint pointed out. “One… two… three.” They blew the candle out together and he set it down. Natasha’s cheeks had a hint of color to them peeking through, something Clint would never dare to point out. “You ready to go?”

“Yes, I think so.” Natasha’s arms wrapped around his before they walked and she leaned her head against him as the elevator took them down. Clint kissed the top of her head, taking a deep breath before he closed his eyes.

Once outside, Natasha let go of his arm in favor of taking one of his hands. It was something new, which was now distracting Clint. Normally as they walked Natasha preferred to keep her hands free and to herself, just in case. Once they got to their location, Natasha would always pick back on up the small signs of affection, nothing too big or flashy. Clint knew it was mostly for his benefit and while he told her she didn’t have to do it, she did anyway. Today though, her hand cupped around his as they walked down the street.

“You are thinking way too hard,” Natasha commented. “Keep it up and I might actually hear your thoughts.”

Clint’s cheeks heated up and he scrunched up his nose. “I’m not thinking about it that hard,” he muttered.

Natasha shot him a look, somewhat out of pity, somewhat amused. “No?” she asked. “Hmmm. I could be highly mistaken.” She squeezed his hand. “Want me to let go?”

“Never.” Clint hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding breathless but it did. It took Natasha by surprise, her pace slowing to a gradual stop. “I dunno what is- sorry,” Clint said, his head jumbled.

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked, letting go of his hand and reaching up to touch his head. “You don’t have a fever or anything.” She was more concerned by the minute, especially when Clint was coming short on words. “Lyubov’ moya?”

“I swear, I’m fine. Just… words,” Clint answered. “Guess I might be a little more tired than I thought I would be.”

“You need to work less,” Natasha scolded lightly, pushing his hair back before she started walking again, this time without taking his hand. “Stop thinking you ruined the moment, Clint. You didn’t.”

“... I hate when you do that,” Clint whined but smiled, jogging to catch up with her and walk alongside her. Natasha liked to touch the soulbond between them, liked getting a better feel that what words could describe. She was a little better at it too, a little more attuned with it. Clint usually left it alone for the most part, only accessing it when he had to; Natasha liked her privacy and this was a way that Clint could show her he respected that. “And I kinda did. As far as work- I don’t even work that much.”

“You worked twelve hours today, away from home for almost fourteen,” Natasha pointed out.

That was something Clint couldn’t argue. He had an early morning, decorating the cupcakes before he worked on the main cake. He couldn’t wait for Kate to be back next week, that way he had an extra set of hands for when they needed to make the desserts for the Avengers event at the end of the month. Jack had helped, but he also had his own things he needed to do to keep the bakery running that day.

Natasha grabbed his hand again and Clint smiled. “Now you are doing it on purpose,” he said, squeezing her hand. Natasha didn’t confirm or deny the accusation as she looked around.

Soon enough they arrived at the restaurant, looking around before they spotted Jack and Brock. Clint waved and weaved his way past tables and people. “Okay, gotta say, this place smells amazing,” he said when he got to the table.

“That’s what he said,” Jack commented, nudging Brock.

“Someone looks grumpy,” Clint teased.

Natasha moved and hugged Jack and Brock, kissing their cheeks before she sat with Clint. “I told you that that plan wasn’t going to work,” she said to Brock. “Clint saw right through it, no questions asked. Just a no.”

“About that- no more talking behind our backs and plotting,” Clint said.

“I tried,” Brock muttered, picking up his glass and taking a drink. His smile was on the cocky side before he set his arms on the table. “In all fairness, my plan almost worked. Get your soulmate in line, Red.”

“You’re not allowed to talk to Sam anymore,” Natasha said.

They all ordered their food, Clint and Natasha ordering their drinks as well. Natasha took the longest time deciding, looking at the list with a blank face before she ordered a burger because Brock teased her about ordering a salad. Clint wasn’t sure who was smirking more at that point.

“Alright, so whats new?” Brock asked once the waitress dropped off all the drinks and appetizers.

“Same old,” Natasha answered. “Go here, do the job, come home and let this one cuddle me like he was afraid I was going to die or something stupid.”

“Hey!” Clint exclaimed. “Excuse me for being a loving boyfriend.” He wasn’t going to say that he was _always_ worried she was going to get hurt, or die, or go MIA. Clint was pretty sure everyone at the table already knew that, especially Natasha.

“Clingy,” Brock teased. Clint rolled his eyes and picked up his glass while flipping Brock off. “Jack and I actually have exciting news.” Clint raised an eyebrow and looked over at Natasha before back. Brock looked over at Jack, reaching a hand over and taking Jack’s. “You wanna do the honors?” he asked.

Clint had a feeling he knew what it was. He could almost see it in their gaze, the soft moment before the two of them as they looked at each other, each with soft smiles. Clint reached under the table and touched Natasha’s leg lightly. 

Jack looked at them and nodded. “We decided we are going to get married,” he said.

It had sounded so formal, which Clint expected out of Jack. Brock even snorted at the words. Natasha, however, looked elated. A rush of pure joy rushed through their soulbond, taking Clint by surprise. “That is amazing. Congratulations,” she said. “How? When?” she asked.

“Jack is the one who wanted to,” Brock shrugged. “Said we’re together anyway- we’re happy. And I said sure, why the hell not. Told’em he needed to buy me a fancy ring though. No boring old gold band.”

Clint sank into the conversation from there, letting Natasha do all the talking. He hadn’t realized how close she had become with his best friends, he had always assumed that she was friends with them for Clint’s benefit. Clint carefully touched the soulbond, felt the vibrations of pure happiness, joy, excitement. Somewhere along the way, Natasha had adopted them as her own and cared about them like she did the people she lived with.

When Clint wasn’t focused on Natasha he watched Brock and Jack. Jack mostly watched Brock throughout the entire meal and Clint couldn’t remember the last time Jack looked so soft, so relaxed, Brock too for that matter. Brock normally wasn’t into public displays of affection but tonight it was different, like nothing in the world could ruin that moment for them.

The rest of the meal flew by in a flurry of conversations. Weddings, vacations, their jobs. Brock made fun of Natasha for eating her burger with a fork, and Natasha shot back at Brock when his eyes started to tear up, sweat drenching his face at the heat from his burger. Jack caught Clint’s attention before he looked at the two of them. Clint shrugged and smiled brightly in return.

It was a quick jot over to their painting class, everyone reaching over each other to get the aprons they wanted to use. There were so many photos taken, grabbing the props that were there. Clint was pretty sure they were _those_ people but he didn’t care as soon as he saw a smile on Natasha’s face, watched her reaching around Brock to grab a prop they both wanted to use.

Before the class officially started, Natasha carefully tied her hair up and away, piling it in a messy fashion on top of her head. Clint hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek before they all found their seats. Tonight’s class featured trees in a forest, an autumn look if you wanted it to be. On one tree was carved initials. It wasn’t exactly Clint’s first choice, but it was the only one that worked with all of their schedules.

Natasha looked at the photo and looked at Clint before she leaned over. “I am _not_ doing the initial carvings on mine. That’s all you.”

Clint smiled a little as he started to get his paint ready. “Scared someone might view you as, I dunno, romantic?” he asked.

Brock leaned back to look at the couple. “Red- did you gag too?” he asked.

“I told Clint I’m not doing that part,” Natasha said.

“Oh! That’s an idea,” Brock said before he looked at Jack.

“I swear, you two,” Jack sighed. “You’re doing the initials and you are going to like it.” Brock wrinkled his nose before he leaned back.

For what it was worth, it seemed like everyone in the group was taking it seriously. Once the class started, everyone went quiet, trying to paint something. Clint glanced over at Jack and Brock, leaning over each other to fix little spots occasionally on each other’s canvases. A few times Natasha leaned over, relaxing against Clint. He turned his head and kissed her temple, the top of her head, whatever he could easily reach.

It was a nice and relaxing change of pace. Maybe there wasn’t a lot of talking between them when it came to this painting, maybe they should have picked someone more fun and lively, but they were together. It was softer than what they typically did- there weren’t taunts like during bowling, or drinking each other under the table, or the _one_ time Clint made the mistake of taking them all to a football game. It wasn’t trying to teach Natasha or Brock how to bake and decorate, something Jack and Clint did enough during the work days. It was refreshing.

“Hey,” Natasha said towards the end, tugging on Clint’s arm. Clint looked at her, at the tiny bits of paint on her face, a little in her hair. She pointed a paint covered finger to her canvas and Clint took a peek for the first time and smiled. It wasn’t the biggest tree, it was closer to the background, but he saw tiny initials in a tree surrounded by a hastily etched heart. Clint leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers, Natasha putting her head against his.

The goodbyes for the night were short and sweet. They exchanged handshakes and hugs before tucking their canvases close to them before they headed in their separate ways. Natasha was quiet on the way home, something softer in her eyes than before. She looked at peace, which made Clint feel at peace. Clint wrapped an arm around her, trying to keep her warm against the chill of the night.

The whole way back they were greeted with a misty night, dampening their clothes if only a little. Clint and Natasha broke apart, trying to cover their canvases. Clint finally called it quits and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the stacked artwork to protect it from any moisture. The way Natasha fussed, tucking the sleeves in gently to make sure every inch possible was covered made Clint’s heart swell with pride, happiness, love- too short lived because when Natasha caught wind of it she teased him about being a hopeless sucker.

They got back to the Tower right as the rain started picking up and headed right up to the apartment. Natasha took her time taking her boots off while Clint mostly kicked his shoes off of him, looking around for a spot to lay their masterpieces. He felt the canvases slowly being pulled from his hand and he let go of it before he focused on Natasha. The kiss was soft, not rushed as Natasha held his face between her hands. The moment Natasha stepped into the kiss Clint wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Can we agree that those two are becoming disgustingly more sappy by the day?” Natasha asked, a smirk gracing her face.

“... you _really_ had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?” Clint asked with a laugh, shoving her away. “Jerk.”

“What’s even worse? You get all heart eyes when they get all mushy and sappy,” Natasha taunted playfully.

“Hey, you are stuck with a hopeless romantic, be prepared for all the heart eyes,” Clint warned, his left hand flying in the air.. “In fact, I think you need to do something cute right now so I can get all heart eyes again.”

“I’ve got a few knives,” Natasha replied, crossing her arms.

“Sexy but I don’t think that fits the bill,” Clint laughed, grabbing their canvases. “Bedroom?” he asked.

“Where?”

“Hmmm.” Clint headed down the hall to their bedroom. So far they had managed to keep their bedroom surprisingly sparse of anything too personal. They each had a nightstand with a lamp, and on Clint’s side was his hearing aid charger and a small framed photo of the two of them, and Natasha had a different photo on hers, along with a small stack of books and puzzle books. “How would you feel about hanging them on the wall behind the bed for now?” he asked. “It’s a blank space, after all.”

“You don’t want to save it for something that says family is everything or something?” Natasha teased before she climbed up on the bed. “Go grab the hangers while I figure out the position?”

“You got it,” Clint said, putting the canvases on the bed so he could go grab the tools to get them properly hung. He climbed up with her. “I had fun tonight. I know it wasn’t something you would normally do, or even feel comfortable with but-”

“I had a good time too.” Natasha took the hammer from him and the first post. “It wasn’t bad. It was a good change for us I think. All of us.” Natasha hung the first canvas before checking her measurements, hanging the second one. She took a few steps back, Clint offering up his arm to keep her steady; she might not have needed it, but she used it anyway. Clint joined her soon after and looked at their handy work. “It’s… weird,” she commented.

“What’s weird? I think it looks nice,” Clint replied, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in closer as he looked at the paintings.

“They say art tells a lot of things about a person,” Natasha said. “Like their mood. What do you see?” she asked.

Clint raised an eyebrow before looking at the two paintings side by side. They looked a bit messy maybe, definitely nothing done by a professional by any means. They used the same colors, following through with the teacher’s advice instead of going off on a tangent like Brock had done. In fact, Clint still wasn’t convinced that Brock didn’t purposely hide a penis etching in the tree despite Brock’s innocent look. Natasha and Clint didn’t have anything like that. But as far as emotions went, all Clint really saw were wonky trees and two etched hearts.

“Okay… I have no idea,” Clint laughed. “What am I supposed to see? No dicks this time.”

Natasha snickered. “Jack was so pissed. He masked it well though. Pretty sure he should be nominated for sainthood.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Our light source, it’s the same.” Clint stared at the pictures longer before he turned his head to look at her. Natasha shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like…” She took a moment to think through her words carefully. “Sometimes I think I am getting… better.”

Clint opened his mouth before he closed it. It was one of those moments where he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t _need_ to think she was getting better because she was fine the way she was. He wanted to tell her that nothing about her was bad, except her karaoke or her terrible taste in music. But he knew what she meant- he knew she was still struggling with some of her own demons and if she thought it was becoming easier to relax then he needed to support that.

Natasha hung her head and a hint of nervous energy passed through the bond. “I… leave in three days for an Avengers mission.” She looked back up. “I was going to tell you earlier but you looked so happy and I just-“

“It’s okay,” Clint promised, reaching down to take her hand, giving it a squeeze.

It wasn’t like this was the first time Natasha had left on a mission of any sort, but this was the first time Clint had heard of her having a mission with the Avengers that was pre-planned. Normally they received a call and reported to random events. This didn’t settle well in Clint’s stomach. Something about it had to have thrown Natasha off too, because she looked and felt a little on the nervous side.

“I can’t tell you anything about it,” Natasha said.

“Yeah, I know,” Clint said. “So… three days? I have to work tomorrow but I’ll take vacation for the other two.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Natasha insisted.

“I want to,” Clint replied. “Come on.” He slowly got down from the bed, helping her down before they both sat. Natasha tightened her hold on his hand. “I’ll be here, the whole time. You and the others are in a meeting? I’ll be right up here. I can do some of my work from home. I need to come up with rough sketches for cake designs and all of that. And that gives me time to actually plan for the Avengers Halloween bash.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Guess what the theme is.”

“Who came up with it?”

“Pepper.”

Natasha gave it some thought. “I don’t know. 1920’s glitz and glamour?” she asked.

“Worse. So much worse,” Clint promised. “The Mummy’s Curse” Natasha’s breath caught in her throat and she coughed, covering her face and hiding a smile. “I know! Oh my God. I am going to watch _so_ many mummy movies while you are gone. You are going to come back and I am going to be walking with my arms stretched out.” Clint dropped Natasha’s hand and turned, putting his arms out. “Braaaains.”

Natasha laughed and shoved Clint away. “That’s zombies.”

“Same thing. I bet both smell awful,” Clint laughed, leaning against Natasha when they both settled. “I’ll work fast tomorrow and come straight home.”

Natasha nodded and closed her eyes. “Guess we should probably go to bed. What time do you have to be up?”

“Three in the morning or thereabouts,” Clint answered. Natasha wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I would say I will be quiet, but we both know I am going to slam my toe into the dresser or something equally as dumb.”

Natasha snorted and got up. “And then there is that. Come on, Mister graceful. Let’s change and I’ll find something to watch to fall asleep to,” she offered.

“Now that is a plan I can get behind,” Clint agreed.

There was a time where changing in front of each other had been somewhat awkward. Clint could remember a lot of time spent in the bathroom. It wasn’t even that either of them were shy- Clint certainly wasn’t shy about his body, and based on some of the things Natasha had told him about previous missions, well, he knew she wasn’t exactly shy either. But the newness of it, the getting to know each other part? Something about it had a roadblock that took a few weeks to get over.

Now they mostly just threw clothes at each other, clean or dirty, and had a laugh about it. Natasha would steal Clint’s hoodies from time to time, not that it was really stealing if he allowed it, but it was more fun to call it that. Clint couldn’t steal any of Natasha’s clothing, which was a shame, so instead he stole her jewelry from time to time. Or hats- Natasha had quite the collection of ball caps that she very rarely wore, and Clint still didn’t understand why she owned things like that.

“Hearing aids. Charger,” Natasha said before Clint could get into bed.

“I was going to,” Clint lied, already halfway in. He pivoted as he took his hearing aids out, putting them carefully into the pod Tony had made him and waited until the light turned blue before he turned back and crawled into bed.

Natasha was fiddling with the remote before the show came on and Clint groaned. Just because he was a baker didn’t mean he loved watching anything that came with it. He reached over her, trying to steal the remote and managing it. He settled back and scanned the listings until he found crime shows.

 _You wake me up to talk- I kill you_ Clint signed. Natasha _loved_ murder mystery shows, but sometimes while watching she had a nasty habit of either saying how _she_ would have done the crime, which was slightly unsettling, or would point out that there was no way the weapon was used the way initially thought, which was almost more disturbing.

 _R-E-M-O-T-E_ Natasha finger spelled. Clint handed it over.

 _No baking shows_ Clint warned, giving her a stern look as he signed it. Natasha slowly smiled and Clint hardened his glare until she settled on the history channel. He glanced at the show before he nodded and settled into his side of the bed. He curled up on his side, one arm under his pillow as he watched the screen.

The moment Clint knew it was game over was when Natasha’s hand ended up in his hair. He took a deep breath and sighed, reaching his free hand over and touching Natasha’s stomach lightly. He was more focused on her breathing than on the show, the rise and fall of her stomach and chest soothing him. That nervous feeling was still there in the back of his head, and he knew it wouldn’t leave until she was back home safe. But until then he had thing, and that was going to have to be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was pretty sure this was going to be how he died. He laid on the mat, staring up at the ceiling and the bright lights and he was pretty sure if he moved right then that his back was going to hate him for the rest of his day. Why he let Natasha talk him into this he still didn’t know- learning self-defense and sparring? It sucked. Sure, it was probably fun if you weren’t working with someone who is a trained assassin and could kick your ass fifty ways into next Tuesday. Clint knew she was “going easy” on him, but if this was Natasha’s “easy”, he was definitely glad to not know her average.

Red hair blocked his view for a moment before he tilted his head back and looked into those green eyes, seeing far too much amusement behind them. He wanted to be mad about it, because that last take down  _ hurt _ , but he reached an arm up and grabbed her arm and tugged her down instead; nevermind the fact that if she didn’t want to be down, she wouldn’t be. That fleeting smile was there before all he saw were the lights again.

“You’re leagues better,” Natasha commented.

“I would take that as a compliment but my ass hurts too much,” Clint mumbled.

“Not your favorite kind of pain in your ass?” Natasha mused. Clint’s face struggled to stay neutral before he lost it, laughing too hard. Clint turned his head to kiss her temple. He let his head rest there, breathe her in for a moment before she turned her head and kissed him.

Maybe sparring with Natasha was a pain in the ass, but it was always coupled with something softer and sweeter. It always led to a certain amount of babying while she teased him, and honestly- it made up for the bruises Clint knew was coming. Learning how to defend himself and fight back? It helped Natasha feel better about their situation and really Clint  _ should _ learn how to handle himself should he ever need to.

“Tomorrow we are working on knives and guns,” Natasha warned, watching his face.

Clint openly whined, shifting his body to see where he was sore before he pulled his feet flat against the mat, knocking his knees off to the side. “I hate those days. I always manage to cut myself.”

“You’re a beautiful clutz,” Natasha agreed with a laugh. “Still, you need to work on disarming. No one is going to come at you with an animal balloon. You need to know how to maneuver if there is a gun held to your head.”

“That just sounds dramatic,” Clint said before he pulled himself up, rubbing his back. “Oof, Nat.” He looked at the clock. “Tomorrow you need to rest up before your mission. We’ll do guns and knives a week straight if that’s what you want afterwards but tomorrow it’s a quiet day.” The gym door opened and Clint looked back at Steve, hovering in the doorway. “Hey Cap. Coming to make sure she didn’t kill me out here?”

“Actually, I need to borrow Natasha,” Steve said in a tone that let Clint know just how serious it was. 

He glanced at Natasha who seemed to want to challenge the request. “Go on,” Clint said, nudging her. “I’ll be up in the apartment.”

“Alright.” Natasha got up before she helped Clint to his feet.

“Thank you for understanding,” Steve said.

“Yep.”

Clint watched the two of them go before he sighed. He cleaned up the mat himself, finding it better for his nerves to keep himself busy. And he did go upstairs to their apartment, but he never slowed down. He started laundry and worked on the kitchen after that. He thought briefly about making lunch for them before he decided that waiting for Natasha was the better option.

After an hour, he ran out of ideas. He slumped down into the couch and grabbed his phone. He turned it over in his hands before he set forth a new plan of keeping himself occupied. If there was one person who could calm him down in this case, it was probably going to be Brock. In the most ridiculous way ever.

_ Hey, watched that show about firefighters. That one dude? Casey or Matt or whatever? Why can’t you look that good in your gear? _

It was a harmless text, something he knew Brock would instantly read into. They both had this habit now when they needed to blow off steam. They would text the other something completely insulting or ridiculous and from there it would turn into sending each other gifs and memes.

Clint’s phone pinged and he looked down and smiled.  _ Hey fuck you, baker boy. You know the only time you look good? Covered in flour so no one has to see that ugly mug. _

Clint tilted his head back and laughed as he contemplated his next move. He could hit back somehow with Brock needing to go inhale smoke, or something with soot involved. Something about maybe he was ugly but-

As predicted the insults turned into gifs insulting each other, which then turned to gifs of the most random things. It took the edge off of Natasha being gone as Clint scrolled to find the ultimate video that he knew would make Brock lose his shit- a video compilation of birds swearing at their owners.

_ Dude fuck you _

_ I am dying right now _

_ Jack won’t let me get a bird for this reason. He’s a dick. _

Clint collapsed sideways on the couch, laughing so hard he dropped his phone and dislodged one hearing aid as he rolled his head to the side. In fact, he had been laughing so hard, watching the video himself that he hadn’t heard when Natasha came into the room. It wasn’t until a cold hand touched his arm that Clint knew she was there, and he screamed.

“Holy shit!” he shouted, fumbling with his phone to pause the video, trying to get his hearing aid back in. “Holy shit you scared me. Holy-”

One look at Natasha’s face brought Clint to a screeching halt. Normally by now she would be laughing or making fun of his blunder; this time Natasha’s face was neutral, that blank mask she wore so well. Clint hesitated before he stood up, the couch between them.

“You are leaving, aren’t you?”

“In about two hours,” Natasha answered.

Clint nodded and climbed over the back of the couch to get next to her and wrap his arms around her. She ducked her head, tucking it just under Clint’s chin as she wrapped her arms around him. Clint squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his emotions to himself as all the nervousness, the worrying came flooding back to him. He thought maybe they would have another day, just some more time to lay in bed and not move. He thought they would have a big breakfast and watch the worst movie they could find before Natasha would have to pack up and leave. Now they were left with just minutes because she needed to pack.

“It’s going to be okay,” Natasha said, a hint of skepticism under her tone.

Clint knew it wasn’t a promise she could keep. Instead, he nodded and let go. “Go get ready. I’ll walk you down.”

Natasha reached up and touched his face before she drew him down towards her and kissed him. Clint always thought it should feel like a promise, but it always just reminded him as a potential goodbye. All the while he smiled through it because what else were either of them going to do?

Two years and Clint still wasn’t sure what Natasha’s pre-mission ritual was. It always took about an hour and forty minutes, give or take about twenty minutes. He knew if he asked she would probably, maybe let him in to observe, but the process seemed too personal, something Clint was too afraid to check in on in case she forgot something because he was there. So while Natasha packed, or meditated, or did whatever it was that she did, Clint sat in the living room, too worked up to do much of anything besides watch the rain as it fell outside.

“Clint?”

Clint’s eyes flickered towards the hallway. Natasha was in her traditional black outfit, fitting tightly against her body like a second skin, her hair pulled back in two braids. Clint nodded and got up, walking over and reaching out, putting his hand over hers until she let go of her bag, letting him carry it. The first time he tried the same action there had been a fight- now it was an unspoken agreement, something Clint needed to do because it was the only way he could baby Natasha before a mission.

The ride up to the roof was done in silence. Clint kept his eyes straight ahead, though he did start to smile when Natasha’s hand slid over his. They walked off together and Clint looked at the Quinjet as it was being loaded, everyone there. Tony could be heard inside talking to Bruce and Sam about flight information and Steve was grabbing bags and putting them in.

“Hey,” Clint said, stopping in his tracks. Natasha stopped and they both turned to each other. “Text me or something, okay?” he requested. Natasha nodded before she closed her eyes. Clint pressed his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath.

This was always the hardest part. On a normal day, Clint was alright with the goodbyes because he knew he would be coming home to the hello. Missions though, especially Avenger ones? Clint hated these goodbyes just like he hated that kiss; it always felt like broken promises and that final goodbye that Clint dreaded so much. Worse yet, he knew that Natasha knew what he was thinking- she knew how much he hated goodbyes, said that twice she even caught his thought in passing because he had felt it so strongly. One time was when he was younger- the one and only time he had visited Barney in prison.

“Its going to be okay, lyubov’ moya,” Natasha said softly. “I’ll be home soon. I’m looking forward to the cake and dessert designs.”

“I’ll throw in a brain joke, just for us,” Clint promised. He would do it- Pepper might give him a look but Clint was willing to deal with the suspicious looks if that meant he could pull a laugh out of Natasha.

Natasha chuckled and kissed his cheek before she took her bag. “I… texted Brock and Jack. You and Brock both have tomorrow off. Go spend time with your friends, Clint.” She ran a hand over his chest before she patted it. “See you when I get home.”

Clint nodded before he took a few steps back. Natasha turned and jogged towards the Quinjet. Steve said something to her, smiled even before he took her bag. Steve looked back at Clint, gave him one of those “I’m sorry” smiles that only made Clint feel numb, and he headed inside, the hatch closing behind him. Clint shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and took more steps back, wanting to be by the elevator so he could be inside the moment he couldn’t see the jet anymore.

The moment they were gone, Clint headed in and took the stairs, the ache from the day’s exercise and the exhaustion helped keep Clint’s mind at ease until he was in front of the apartment door. His hand lingered on it for a bit too long before he walked inside and closed the door, leaning on it before he sat down, back flat against the door. 

_ Slow, deep breaths. It’s going to be okay _ \- that’s what he liked to tell himself. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t, but at least he was trying to keep it together. Clint wondered when the leaving was going to become easier- if at some point he would become so numb to the missions that he could go on without feeling crazy. Maybe if they weren’t soulmates it would have been easier because he would have felt like he had less to lose, but he knew that wasn’t right- if something were to happen to Jack or Brock he would be devastated; hell, anymore, if anything happened to Steve, Tony, Bruce, Thor or Sam Clint was pretty sure he would lose it, if only just a little.

Clint’s phone rang and he pulled himself up from the floor. He walked over to the coffee table where he had left it and sat down as he answered. “I”m fine, Jack.”

Sometimes Clint wondered if his best friend had a superpower. Jack always seemed to know when Clint was feeling down. Sure, Natasha had texted the pair to let them know what was going on, but Jack always seemed to call right when Clint felt like his emotions were about to bottom out.

_ “I know you’re fine. Why wouldn’t you be?”  _ Jack replied in an even tone. It was always so soothing to talk to Jack when he wasn’t worked up.  _ “Brock and I are going to have dinner out by you tonight and wanted to know if you wanted to meet up.” _

It was an innocent enough question but Clint knew what the plan was. “I actually… I want to be alone. But hey! Tell Brock I am looking forward to our day together tomorrow. Full of beer and television.”

_ “Yeah… I am looking forward to that too,”  _ Jack said sarcastically.  _ “You sure?” _

Clint could hear the worry in Jack’s voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Anyway, I have things I need to get done here. I’ll see you both tomorrow though.”

_ “See you tomorrow,” _ Jack reluctantly agreed before the call ended.

Clint sighed and set his phone down. He knew he probably should have gone out with them, gotten some fresh air, had more time not to sit and think about Natasha and the mission. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to be social, wanted to try putting a smile on his face and look happy; the thought of acting like he didn’t feel like the world was about to crash around him only made him get a headache.

Tonight he could manage to be alone without falling apart. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last time. So Clint filled his night. He ordered pizza for delivery, grabbed his sketchpad and started focusing on work. He had two orders to fill before he could touch the Avengers charity event order, but his head was stuck on mummies and zombies and the way Natasha had laughed, that rare, fully there smile on her face, the feeling of her shoving him away. So Clint queued up a few old mummy movies and settled in for the night.

By the time Clint felt tired enough to crash, his hearing aids were already out and on the table, tossed carelessly about. He was on his third glass of vodka and the side of his right hand was covered in graphite. He looked through the sketches he had done, some pieces more elegant looking than others before he set the sketchbook down. With a sigh he paused his movie and polished off his glass before he stood up, the world having a pleasant tilt to it. He grabbed his phone and shuffled his way down to his bedroom,  _ their _ bedroom.

Everything always felt a little colder without Natasha there, and Clint didn’t mean physically. The canvases above the bed didn’t make him as happy as when he saw Natasha standing in their room, looking up at them with that small smile she afforded herself. The tapersities didn’t seem to have the same glow to them from Natasha sitting in bed, reading late into the night. The bed didn’t seem quite as comfortable without the left side of it sunken in just enough.

Clint changed into his sleepwear and looked around the room before he laid down. He wanted to be stronger than this, mostly because he was afraid if Natasha checked on him through their soulbond she would notice just how scared he really felt. Like every time before, Clint grabbed her pillow and pulled it over, hugging it to his chest, just enough of it against his nose that he could smell a hint of her lingering behind. He tucked up on his side, making himself just a little bit smaller as he tried to go to sleep.

The next day with Brock was relaxing to say the least. That was the good thing about Brock- the guy knew when Clint wanted to talk and when Clint just needed to be around someone, have a normal conversation. By now, Clint was sure Jack would want to talk about it, if only a little to make sure Clint was alright. Brock though? He let it go and let Clint talk about anything he wanted without bringing up anything too terribly sensitive. In fact, Natasha and the Avengers never once got brought up. Mostly they talked about the bird videos before looking those up, before changing to videos on cats and dogs and-

Brock was still in his pajamas, Cookie Monster gracing a field of greys and blues, little chocolate chip cookies everywhere. Even his shirt had Cookie Monster on it. Clint had thought about making fun of him for it but really- Clint was the one who bought him the pajamas because Brock was a sucker for monster cookies, and he looked good in them. Clint was in a pair of purple sweatpants, a gift from Steve, and the oldest, most comfortable black hoodie he owned. The fact it still smelled like Natasha was just an added bonus to his day.

Clint had lost track of time and didn’t even hear when Jack had come in. Somehow Brock and Clint landed on watching Hallmark movies, something they both declared was ridiculous but watched anyway. Clint had decided years ago that Brock was a closeted romantic- Romcoms were his thing if you could squeeze them in without actually saying you were watching one.

Between them was a plate that was once filled with cookies because how could Clint not make Brock his favorite, and scattered on the table in front of them were cans of soda and beer. Clint was equally invested and a little sad by the movie playing out, his fingers tangling in the legs of his sweatpants.

“Did you two at least eat real food today?” Jack asked.

“Monster cookies count, right?” Brock asked.

“No.” Jack’s tone was so flat.

“Calm down, mom, we made grilled cheese sandwiches,” Clint said, tearing his eyes from the screen to give Jack a smile. For a moment Jack looked concerned, his eyebrows pulled down and his eyes a little sharper. Clint wasn’t sure what was on his face until he reached up and touched his own cheek. When had he started crying? He felt his face heating up, his shoulders pulling up, and he was trying to will his mouth to say something, anything.

“Let the man cry in peace,” Brock warned Jack. Clint looked over at Brock. “Not everyone wants to talk about it.” With a flash of a grin, lacking anything sympathetic which was Clint’s benefit, Brock got up and lazily stretched his way over to Jack, who still didn’t look convinced. “Jack, pal-”

“Pal,” Clint snorted. He quickly wiped his face off with his sleeve and got up. “Brock and I wanted to go try that new bar and grill down in Soho. It’s fire station themed so we get to hear Brock bitch about that all night.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t going to bitch as long as their chili is spicy,” Brock retorted, flipping Clint off. With a quick kiss to Jack, Brock went for his shoes. “Ten bucks says they have a shitty dalmatian statue out front with a placard giving a shout out to all serving animals.”

“I am taking you up on that one,” Clint replied, getting his own shoes. He bumped into Jack. “I’m fine, I promise. We had a good day. And! I know what Brock wants for Christmas this year.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “A parrot.”

“No. I am not having a parrot in this house calling me a fucker all day,” Jack said sternly. “I am not going to have an asshole parrot. I refuse.”

“But what if we teach it to do cute things like say night-night?” Brock asked.

Clint watched the way the two softened around each other as they discussed the whole parrot idea. Jack’s face went from looking concerned to a gentle smile and rolling his eyes. Brock just looked like his normal self- playful and maybe a bit cocky, smug, something that was so Brock. Clint stuffed his feet into his shoes, a genuine smile on his face.

“Come on before the place gets packed, “ Clint said as he got back up. “You both can start your kissy routine later.”

“Kissy routine?” Jack asked. Brock snorted and waved Clint off, heading down the hall to change. Jack watched him go before he looked back at Clint. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for being you,” Clint said, walking over before he leaned against the wall. “You’ve always been that caring type. I kinda expect it, you know?” Jack nodded and looked away. “Guess the movie just got me in the feelings. Same actos, same plot, but damn it. Small town girl got me.”

“You start singin’ Journey and I’m going to throw my shoe at ya,” Brock warned as he came out.

“I have to be seen with you both in sweatpants?” Jack asked, sounding a little exasperated, but he had that smile there that told Clint that everything was going to be okay.

“Well hell, Jackie. Go change,” Brock said as he sat on the couch to put his shoes on. “I’m comfortable though.”

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” Clint added. Jack gave him a questioning look. “I’m going back home after dinner. Figured I’d sleep better for tomorrow so I can get going on the next big order. By the way, I got the sketches done for the Meldov order and the Avengers order. I’ll bring them tomorrow for you to look at.”

“Alright,” Jack said. “Are you sure you don’t-”

“Jack, let the guy sleep in his own bed,” Brock said, getting up and grabbing a jacket. Clint knew Brock didn’t like the idea of Clint being alone either, he could see it in the strain of his fake smile. “He ain’t lyin’, he probably would sleep better there.”

With a defeated sigh, Jack conceded. Clint patted his arm before he grabbed the door. “Come on- I want Brock to owe me money.”

The subway ride out to Soho was fairly uneventful- Clint opted to stand in the cramped train, holding onto the bar overhead and swaying with the train. Jack and Brock found a bench and took it up, Brock’s face turning to it’s normal scowl when in a crowded space, while Jack looked like he always did. Clint glanced around the train at the passengers. He was a people watcher- he liked to make up little stories in his head for what these people did in a day, where they were off to. Sometimes they were coming home from working as a worker at a bank, sometimes a single mom juggling three kids. Date nights, uninterested date nights, ravers-

“Cough it up,” Brock said the moment they strolled up to the restaurant. Clint couldn’t help but grin at the status of a dalmatian and the placard in front. “Told ya. I’ve seen enough of these to know what I am talking about.”

“Yeah yeah, smart man for being so short,” Clint muttered, getting his wallet out.

“Smart man can still kick your ass if you call me short again,” Brock said, chest puffing out.

Clint held the money up over his own head, a sly smile spreading on his face. “Oh no. You are so right. You’re tall. Very tall. Let’s go, tall boy. Grab your winnings.”

“Stop it,” Jack said, snatching the money from Clint and handing it off to Brock. “I don’t need the scene of Brock climbing up you to somehow end up on the news.”

“Now  _ that _ would be hilarious,” Clint said before he grabbed the door to go inside. “Brock, what do you say we-”

“No.”

They got a booth towards the back where things were a little quieter. Clint still didn’t feel like dealing with this much noise in one place, his hand fiddling with his hearing aid before he could remind himself to stop. Both Brock and Jack gave him a bit of a sympathetic smile, which Clint hated so he glared at them until they stopped, busying themselves with the menus.

“This shit better be spicy. I want to cry,” Brock said.

“It’s not going to be that spicy. No one wants to eat it that spicy,” Jack commented.

“Bullshit! I do. What’s the point if you aren’t trying to prove your fellow firefighters are weak?” Brock asked.

“You’re a ridiculous man with ridiculous ideas,” Clint laughed. “I thought that was some television show bullshit.”

“I dunno- maybe,” Brock said. “My crew does it though. We all do the extreme heat challenges.”

“It can’t be healthy to eat something you need to wear safety glasses and gloves with,” Jack pointed out. “That just screams that you are going to get an ulcer.”

“Calm down, grandpa,” Clint laughed. “It’s not like they do it every day. You worry a bit too much. It’s super cute, super daddy like.”

Jack looked over his menu at Clint. “... don’t talk about me and the term daddy in the same sentence.” 

Clint stared at Jack in horror before he felt his face pale. Brock absolutely lost his shit, dropping his menu and laughing loudly, catching his breath before he would laugh again. Jack got a hint of mischievous in his eyes before he looked away.

“That was just rude and gross and my mind  _ went there _ ,” Clint complained, whining as he sank down in the booth. Jack’s eyebrows raised as if to ask “well what are you gonna do”, a hint of a smile on his lips before he disappeared behind the menu again. “You guys suck. Why am I friends with you?”

“Because we are charming and will actually talk to you,” Brock answered. Clint wrinkled his nose and kicked Brock under the table. He started to smile more. “What?”

“Dick.”

“Ass.”

Jack gave them each a warning look, a clear indication that he was  _ not _ feeling this very public name calling session. Clint winked before he settled down, looking at the menu.

“Ooo pizza burger!” Clint declared when he got there.

“And we know what Clint is getting,” Jack said. “Brock is getting chili and wings.”

“If you say you are getting a salad, I’m afraid not even a bond will keep us together,” Brock said with a serious tone, although anyone that knew him could see the playfulness in his face.

“Salad it is,” Jack replied.

The dinner wasn’t bad. Clint’s burger was fantastic, if he were being honest. He was going to have to drag Tony down here, show the guy a new burger joint to try. And Jack’s salad was huge, heaped with toppings. The wings were good but-

“Fire station restaurants need spicy chili,” Brock complained as they got outside. “If it doesn’t make me sweat, it doesn’t belong.”

“Told ya we’d get to hear about it all night,” Clint commented to Jack, walking shoulder to shoulder with him.

Jack has that small smile, fond look on his face. “Yeah well- what could one really expect? You tried it, was it spicy?”

Clint teetered his hand. “It was on the edge for me. Nothing compared to the crap he eats.” Brock was walking faster than Jack and Clint, unaware of what was happening around him. “It’s going to be alright you know?” He said, glancing over at Jack. “I’m fine by myself. I know everyone worries but I’m really fine.”

“You get yourself into trouble if you’re alone for too long,” Jack pointed out. 

Which was a fair statement- Clint did tend to find trouble when he had too much time on his hands. And he worried about Natasha like crazy when she was on a mission. So he got a little… stir crazy, if that’s what you wanted to call it. Stir crazy tended to lead Clint to all the bad people he had been with in life, all the moving around he had done.

“Yeah but it’s different now,” Clint said as he watched Brock stop and looked around before he shouted something at them. “Got more of a reason to stay.”

“Guess so,” Jack agreed.

“You two love birds just taking your time?” Brock asked.

Clint felt his nose scrunch up before he could consciously do it. “Pretty sure that’s  _ your _ job.” Clint looked around. “I’m taking this way home, catching the subway,” he added, tilting his head off to the side. “I’ll see you at work Thursday, Jack. Brock- don’t spend all ten of those dollars at the same place.”

“It was great doing business with you,” Brock said.

“Check the emails tomorrow, make sure there wasn’t anything I missed,” Jack requested.

“You got it!”

As they went their separate ways, Clint felt a little lighter. It wasn’t that he had to pretend to be happy in front of them, he  _ was  _ happy around then. He had had a good time. But he didn’t have to worry about justifying any weird look he might have made, or if he felt like falling apart for a moment he could without raising concern.

But he didn’t particularly feel like crying, or falling apart. He was genuinely in a good mood, and he knew that Natasha was going to be okay- they all were. They were  _ Avengers _ after all.

That night Clint mostly worked on various commissions, sketching down designs, tweaking them until he was pretty sure he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if he just started to dream of “under the sea” themes. Mermaids and krakens, pirates- you name it, that seemed to be this year’s theme. He shuffled off to bed, setting his alarm clock just a little earlier so he could shower in the morning.

Just before he went to sleep he tested his luck and did the one thing he told himself he was never going to do. He reached out through the soulbond, feeling how quiet and peaceful it was, and he added a small dash of hope, some love, whatever joy he could.  _ Have a good night  _ he thought as strongly as he could.

A few minutes passed with no response, which he thought would be typical. Between the distance and the not-so-strong feeling he wasn’t sure if she even could get the message. Clint curled up on his side of the bed, his hand brushing against Natasha’s pillow before he closed his eyes.

The gentle whisper of love back across the soulbond brought a soft smile to his face before it carried him off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a quick mention of vomiting in this chapter. If that is not your thing, it is in the paragraph that starts with "We know what you have", and contained to that paragraph.

Two days in and it was a work day. Clint felt a little less anxious than he had the day before, nothing coming through the soulbond to let him know how Natasha was. He wanted to reach out again just to double check she was fine but he had already risked it once, and he wasn’t too keen on the idea of checking again. Natasha swore she could handle it- she had since they were both younger and everything just kinda leaked through on its own. But they were older now and Clint knew how to block off soulbond communication if he really wanted to, and Natasha did too.

Clint snuck into the back of the bakery, taking a deep breath and feeling like he was at home. He flipped on the backroom lights and looked at the empty, shining table in front of him with a smile before he looked at some of their tools hanging up, gleaming white contrasting against a cheerful yellow. Anywhere else and Clint would have said the yellow was  _ too _ yellow for a room, but it just worked in the bakery.

He set up his phone to the speaker and flipped through a few playlists until he found the songs he wanted. It was three-thirty and the shop wouldn’t open until six, giving him plenty of time to listen to his guilty pleasure music. Kate was supposed to come in at four thirty, but she didn’t mind this playlist, so it was a win.

“Okay okay- whats on my list?” Clint asked, wandered off to the board hanging up with their weekly activities. Today he was working on smaller orders it seemed, easy, mindless work. He grabbed the first three sheets under his name and set them up carefully close by so he could look back and refer to them often.

Donuts were at the beginning of his day, probably an order from a corporation. He got through mixing the dough, separating everything out evenly before he started to form the various flavors. The order was basic enough- plain donuts, cinnamon sugar, and their October special- apple cider. Everything he could make from a base and add at the next stage, which would help him save some time so he could hit up the next order. As soon as the donuts were in the oven, Clint collected and mixed the cinnamon sugar topping before setting it off to the side, looking at his next order, a little more complicated with flavors, and he went to work setting up for his next task. With his timer going off, Clint put the oven mitts on and opened the oven, the smell of the donuts pouring out into the room. He took a deep breath before he pulled the trays out.

Clint turned to set the trays down on the table when a sharp, sudden, intense fear came over him, startling him. He gripped the tray as his body started to tense up and he squeezed his eyes shut. Natasha was terrified. He knew to wait it out, that she would have everything back under control in just a moment. She always did.

This time was different. Clint staggered backwards when he started hearing talking, realizing most of it was in Russian. Most of the words were lost on him, the accent too thick for him to pick up much of anything. And then the fear took on more emotions, pain, anger, hurt. Emotions he hadn’t felt from her in so long, at least not to this extent.

His brain finally kicked in a little and he attempted to push through all of her emotions and calm her down. Normally it would take a gentle whisper across the bond to get her to calm down, but now it was like shouting into a raging storm. Clint tried hard to break through, but every time he thought he had made some progress he would drown in more emotions, until finally he knew he couldn’t push any harder, his energy spent.

Clint finally opened his eyes and something flashed in front of them, a blur of black and grey, a hint of red, and all that fear came rushing back forward, the thought of dying overwhelming. The trays dropped from his hands as Clint threw himself backwards, away from the image that was no longer there. His heat hit the handle of the oven, and his vision blurred for a moment.

_ We know what you have, we know what you love. Love is for children, Natalia _ he heard a woman say too sweetly, too menacingly that it sent a chill down Clint’s spine. Clint couldn’t breath, his hands coming up to his neck as if that would help. And then he felt his veins fill with ice and he heard Natasha scream his name with so much pain that all at once he took a deep breath and choked on it. He turned, putting himself on his hands and knees as he threw up, his chest heaving and burning from the mixture of the sudden rush of air and his stomach contents. With shaking hands and shaking legs, Clint crawled backwards until his feet hit a wall and he slowly eased himself to sit back against it, pulling his legs up.

The fear never died down, but it was starting to turn numb around the edges. He struggled to breathe between the sobs and the whiplash of emotions as he tried as hard as he could to reach Natasha. She was there, she was alive, everything was okay. She  _ had _ to be okay. But nothing he tried seemed to get her to turn off her connections with the soulbond so he tried to feed it with as much happiness that he could, even though her emotions were overwhelming everything.

And then, all at once, he was shoved out. Every emotion she was feeling was cut off and left Clint feeling a cold chill and numb. He panicked for a moment, trying to reach anything, grasp it long enough to know she was at least still alive. There was something there, a low buzzing that let him know he was still connected to someone. But there was a warning on that bond that Clint hadn’t felt in a very long time: leave me alone.

With shaking hands and legs, Clint managed to pull himself up and look at the clock. What felt like hours had only been ten minutes or so. He knew what he should do- he should call Jack and Brock, go to their apartment and recover. He knew he was going to be in a hazy daze for a few hours, he knew his mind was going to be focused on whatever had happened, and that the safest thing for him to do was minimize the risk of hurting himself.

Instead, Clint cleaned up the absolute mess in the kitchen, sterilizing every surface he could, scrubbing it until he was sure his hands were pruny, and he started back with the donuts. The baking process took longer than normal, Clint’s mind not on the task so he had to work slower.

Kate walked into the kitchen and paused, looking around. “Why does it smell like donuts and decontamination?” she asked.

“Rough morning. Please tell me that coffee is mine,” Clint said tiredly, taking it as Kate held it out.

Kate looked at him before her eyes narrowed. If Clint didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Kate and Natasha had become friends and Nat was teaching Kate all her dirty secrets. That was until Kate tilted her head off to the side.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Clint.” Her tone was a warning, just like Natasha’s would have been. “Do I need to call-”

“No. I’m fine. I’m okay,” Clint said carefully. “Can you help? I’m slightly behind. We can talk as we work?”

Kate didn’t particularly seem satisfied with that answer, but she went to wash her hands regardless. Clint lined up the orders, explaining what needed to be done, and they got to work in relative silence. Kate checked in, double checking them both and where they were. Clint liked working with Kate almost as much as he liked working with Jack. Kate moved around the kitchen with grace, every move between them falling into a predictable pattern.

“So what happened?” Kate asked when she found her flow.

“I’m not sure,” Clint answered because that was the most honest response he could come up with. “Something with Natasha.”

“She alright?”

“I… I don’t think so,” Clint said. He caught Kate’s look. “She’s alive but she’s not alright.” He felt the nerves building back up, this time his own. “I heard things. Normally I can only hear her, her thoughts and what she is saying when she’s in a high stress situation. But today it was like… it was like I could hear her memories.”

“Is that possible?” Kate asked. “I mean, I know soulbonds do weird things sometimes. Stronger the bond, the more you can do with it. But memories?”

“It's the only way I can describe it,” Clint said before he braced himself against the workbench. “Kate I saw… I saw someone.” Kate froze and her eyes darted to the front. “No. I mean. She was terrified, she thought she was going to die and I opened my eyes and I saw someone. But they weren’t there. It was like a ghost.” Clint looked back down, his hands gripping the counter. “She called out for me and I wasn’t there. And I can’t help. And I can’t-”

Kate was on him before he even knew she was moving. She wrapped her arms around him, most of her weight against him as she stood on her tiptoes. Clint hugged her back tightly, squeezing his eyes shut against the forming tears, but that didn’t seem to be enough because the first sob broke out.

“You need to go home Clint,” Kate said. “I can call-”

“No. I just… I need to work,” Clint protested. “If I go home I’m only going to be miserable until someone calls me and tells me what is going on.” Kate searched his face and Clint tried to give her a smile, though he could feel it wobbling. “Don’t tell Jack and Brock. They are supposed to be having their date day.”

Kate gave him a knowing nod of the head before they both went to clean up their mess to start the next part of their day. “You’ll tell me if you need a break though, right?” Kate asked. Clint only nodded. “I mean it, Clint. As much as you annoy me, I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’ll take breaks,” Clint promised. “When did you start liking me?” he asked, half joking.

Kate’s half smile was there, gentler than normal. “Let’s just say you’re worth a little bit of trouble.”

Clint wouldn’t say the rest of his day passed by easily. He was still working past the exhaustion from emotional overload and a strained bond, the haze still in the back of his head. But with more people entering the shop, Clint started to feel a little lighter. A few orders were a little on the late side, but no one had put up too much of a fuss about it.

He didn’t check on the bond, or Natasha, again for five hours. He took the warning as a threat and he didn’t want to push his luck or welcome. It was driving him crazy, no one calling him and giving him an update; surely everyone on the team had known Clint felt every last bit of what Natasha had gone through and would know he would be crawling out of his skin. He rationalized it by telling himself that they were still in a situation where communication was difficult, which didn’t ease his fear much, but it helped him from not grabbing his phone and calling.

“Hey- go home,” Kate called over. Clint looked up from the cookies he was decorating. “We’ve got it covered. Stop somewhere, grab a pizza, and go home, okay?”

“I’m-”

“If you say fine I am throwing flour at you,” Kate warned quickly.

Clint stared at her before the left side of his lips tugged up. “I am perfectly adequate to do my job.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “That’s awfully close to saying I’m fine but I’ll let it slide.” She walked around the bench. “Gwen called and asked if she could work some extra hours, so I called Jack and he said sure. So… go home.”

“Are you sure?” Clint asked, setting the piping bag down.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t,” Kate said, starting to smile. “Go home before I call the boys on you.”

“Now that threat is just rude,” Clint laughed before he started to clean his station. “I’ll probably tell them regardless. But… thank you. For not.”

“You’re welcome,” Kate replied breezily.

It took a few minutes but Clint was gone in a snap. Their orders really weren’t far behind, Kate could easily catch up the board without his help. And all of the decorated cookies Clint had made were just for resale anyway. Gwen was a bit of a nightmare to work with, still training and learning; he liked her, she was a ray of sunshine around the place, and she had enough energy for all of them, but she was a lot, and Clint was positive he couldn’t handle a lot at the moment.

Instead of pizza, Clint swung by for Chinese before he made it back to the Tower. In a way he wished he could have gone to Brock and Jack’s. At least there he wouldn’t be alone in his apartment, worrying about Natasha. In the Tower he knew he could ask JARVIS for an update, even though he was worrying that Natasha might kill him for it. At Brock and Jack he had distractions, but he’d also have questions he wasn’t sure how to answer.

Clint looked down the long hallway to his apartment he shared with Natasha before he went back to the stairs and climbed down a few flights until he was in one of the activity floors. He normally wouldn’t come down here alone- something about it still felt wrong to Clint, like he wasn’t supposed to be on the floors the team used unless he was with them. Tony would probably call him ridiculous and threaten to make him his own activity floor, and Steve would say he was just as important as everyone else in the Tower. Sam at least understood it- he wasn’t one of the original Avengers, so he was in this spot at some point, at least that’s what Clint told himself.

The floor that had the large pool was one of Clint’s favorites. Natasha and him could come down here whenever and take a dip without anyone usually coming in to bother them. Last year they spent a lot of their winter in that room, watching the snow fall from the pool, arms crossed on the tile and floating. It was a small way to escape everything when they needed to, even though half of the time they didn’t talk about anything too important. 

He set his bag down before he looked around. “Hey J, can you up the security so I know when someone comes?”

_ “Of course, Mr. Barton,” _ the AI system replied.

Clint waited until he saw a confirmation light flash, something Tony had installed the moment he knew about Clint’s hearing, and he stripped down to his boxers and sat down at the edge of the pool, slipping his feet in before he opened his Chinese food container. Being in a neutral territory seemed like a better idea than being somewhere that reminded him of the things he was avoiding.

He didn’t get to watch the snow fall, or even watch any rain. It was a cloudy day instead, nothing descript happening outside of that window. Clint powered through his meal before a light to his side caught his attention.

_ “Sorry to interrupt sir, but Captain Rogers is calling.” _

Clint’s heart beat straight up to his throat. “Patch him through please.”

_ “Certainly.” _

It was only a moment before the familiar voice broke through.  _ “Hello Clint.” _

“Hey Cap,” Clint greeted. “How… how are things?” he asked, biting down on his lip as he looked towards the water. His own reflection looked nervous, paler than normal, and he hated himself for it. He was stronger than this, or at least wanted to be.

Steve was quiet for a moment, considering his words.  _ “I won’t lie and say everything is okay, but everyone is safe.” _ That was at least something that eased Clint a little as he put his food box to the side.  _ “We are still trying to figure out what exactly happened. You will be debriefed on what you need to know when we arrive back at the Tower. Might take a few days.”  _ Clint was trying to figure out the last time Steve had sounded uncertain of anything.

“Is… is she okay?” Clint worked up the courage to ask.

_ “I don’t know how to answer that without it sounding like a lie,” _ Steve said with a sigh.  _ “Give her a few hours to settle down. That’s the best advice I can give you. We are all… a little on the touchy side here at the moment. But I figured you would have felt the pull from the soulbond and… you deserve to know that we’re all safe, that she’s safe. She just needs to process what happened.” _

“I can give her time,” Clint answered, pulling his eyes off from the pool to look outside, the sky darkening. “Just… be safe, Steve. Alright? All of you. If there is anything I can do- you know I would.”

_ “I know.” _ Something in the background went off, an alarm of sorts.  _ “I have to go. We are trying to limit communication for now. Try to stay calm, alright?” _

“Yeah, same. Bye Steve.”

_ Try to stay calm. _ When the line was disconnected, the light turning off, the last thing Clint felt was calm. He was left with more questions than he had answers. Everyone on the team was left a little shaken from whatever had happened. And the fact that Clint was going to get briefed on something? Whatever happened had been big, especially if it involved Clint.

_ Give her a few days to settle down. _ It was easier said than done, but Clint knew he had to do it. This relationship they had going was based on a level of trust and Clint had to respect the fact that Natasha knew what she was doing, that she was a professional. Even if all he wanted to do was fly out to wherever she was and hold her close until maybe she felt loved again, or warm, or whatever it was that she was lacking.

Clint got up and walked to a chair, depositing his box of food and his hearing aids. With long strides, Clint reached the end of the pool and slipped back in, looking down the length of it. He needed to keep himself distracted, scratching the itch around reaching out to Natasha, and he wanted to do it on his own. He took a deep breath before he started taking laps around the pool.

When swimming no longer seemed to chase away his fears, Clint went into one of the exercise rooms and tried the treadmill, ran the track, tried kickboxing, anything physical in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay. Clint was pretty sure he had never worked up a sweat quite like this without someone pushing him.

Then, when all else failed, Clint tried something new. He entered one of the training floors clutching his bow, his eyes sweeping the obstacle course in front of him. He had been outside of these rooms before, had watched Natasha and the rest of the team try new formations, or whatever it was they were doing from the viewing window. Stepping inside the room by himself felt wrong, almost like he was on sacred ground, but he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

“Hey JARVIS?” Clint asked nervously, removing one hand from his bow to fiddle with the quiver slung over his back.

_ “How can I assist you, Mr Barton?”  _ JARVIS asked, peak politeness as usual.

“Do you- do you think they would be mad if I used the room?” Clint asked meekly, his eyes flickering up; if he remembered correctly this space took up three stories, three whole floors with nothing but targets that could move, things to climb, corners to round.

_ “Quite the opposite. I believe Sir and Agent Romanoff would be delighted to hear you are branching out. Can I give you a suggested trial run?” _

Clint wanted to say yes but the word wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t like he was like  _ them, _ anyone of them. He wasn’t a superhero- he didn’t go around fighting bad guys, he wasn’t jumping out of planes, or zipping through the air. He was just a guy with a bow, using it as a hobby, not as a professional. What frustrated him most was all Clint wanted to do was help them, be there for them, and yet he was stuck here, sitting on the sidelines, stupidly nervous to use the room even though he knew no one would have an issue with it.

_ “Mr. Barton?” _ JARVIS asked.

“Is there… like… an easy mode? But not  _ their  _ easy mode?” he asked. “I’m not…” Clint felt his shoulders starting to pull up. “I’m not as good as they are,” he answered honestly.

_ “Of course, Mr. Barton. We can start with target searches, base level, before increasing difficulty.” _

“And you’ll walk me through it?” Clint asked, starting to feel himself calm down as he reached back to grab an arrow.

_ “Certainly, Mr. Barton. Shall we begin?” _

Clint let out a sigh of relief and nocked his arrow. “Okay, yeah, walk me through it,” he said.

Clint lost track of time as soon as the trials began. He went through the motions with JARVIS’ help, finding the targets and shooting them down. Slowly, he crept the difficulty up higher, traveling a little further up with promises that none of the “trap doors” would fall through. It wasn’t easy work, running up and down flights of stairs, finding targets and taking them out before they could get a hit on him. It wasn’t even soothing work except for the familiar pull of his bow, the focus that came along with it that didn’t allow him time to think about anything else.

_ “Mr Barton, I believe it is time to take a break.” _

Everything powered down around Clint, the familiar sound of the targets left standing flashing off. Clint lowered his bow, slowly releasing the tension so he didn’t shoot off his arrow. He hadn’t noticed just how much he was sweating, nor did he notice how tired he was until the AI brought the break to his attention.

“Thank you,” Clint said, more or less stomping down the stairs tiredly instead of running.

_ “Of course Mr Barton.” _

“Remind me to buy some arrows tomorrow,” Clint requested, taking his gloves and bracers off the moment he was in the elevator. JARVIS didn’t reply, it didn’t have to- Clint knew it likely just went to his order history and bought new ones. Clint had set up a payment account at the Tower, something JARVIS could just pull money from when Clint ordered things; there was a small part of him that suspected that Natasha bought some of the things under her account, but he hadn’t paid enough attention yet to bring it up.

By the time he carried himself to the apartment, he simply set his bow and quiver onto the kitchen table and shuffled his way to the bathroom, not bothering with pajamas along the way. He tossed his hearing aids carelessly onto the counter, hoping it didn’t make its way into the sink. The shower was colder than normal and short lived, rushing through his routine just to get clean enough so he could crash in bed.

Clint made the mistake of stopping and looking in the mirror. His eyes had dark bags under them, he looked on the paler side. Did he even remember to eat dinner? He was pretty sure he missed that meal. He gripped the sink before he carefully moved his hearing aids away from the tap and he brushed his teeth. He was certain his eyes should be duller as he prepared for bed but he was feeling his second wind coming on so he axed his personal care routine in half and called it a night.

He rubbed at his eyes before he shuffled away from the mirror and the worried expression that seemed etched on his face. He flopped down on the bed and fumbled around with the blankets before he grunted and sagged, finding a comfortable spot. He reached out and touched Natasha’s side of the bed and closed his eyes.

She’d call tomorrow. She would never leave him hanging for long. Clint just hoped it was sooner rather than later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene with animal abuse as Lucky is introduced. 
> 
> 1) To miss the actual scene, you want to stop reading at "Before he could reach the subway system-", and then pick it back up after the scene break. The following scene starts at the vet clinic, and does contain a brief overview of Lucky's injuries and Clint telling Natasha how he came across Lucky.
> 
> 2) To miss all discussions about Lucko being a hurt baby, you would want to stop reading at "Before he could reach the subway system-" and can pick the story back up at "Natasha was up off from the ground and to him in no time flat." If you pick option two, feel free to send me a quick shout in the comments and I can summarize the interaction between Clint and Nat for ya. =)

It was pouring down rain, which of course it was- it seemed like the New York weather wanted to match Clint’s darkening mood. It had been almost three days since Clint heard from Steve and nothing but radio silence since. For the first thirty-six hours Clint did everything he could to calm himself down even though he was worrying out of his mind. He did a full cleaning on the communal floor, and in the two kitchens. He had cleaned the apartment twice, and he even went to his old apartment in the Tower just to freshen it up in case a new member joined and needed a place to stay.

Even well into forty-eight hours, Clint was worrying about the team and their wellbeing but he was still kinda, almost keeping his cool. Nothing came across the soulbond that would tell him that anyone was hurt or otherwise. Natasha felt like a strange sense of calm, and that might have worried Clint the most. Natasha was always calm but this was different, it still had that threatening undercurrent, something razor sharp through the calm, that feeling he had when he had first met her.

For the last twelve hours, however, Clint was beginning to become agitated. He told Steve he could wait, that he could be patient, but this wasn’t what he had meant, or what he thought Natasha would do. He meant maybe a full day, give or take a few hours. He didn’t mean he could wait endlessly without reaching out and checking in.

And  _ why _ wasn’t she checking in? She always gave him a call after missions, letting him know she was okay. Sometimes he thought she did it for her benefit as well- that hearing him talk might have helped calm her down. Maybe he was wrong about that theory- gave himself too much credit. Afterall, she was working with a team of people that could take down terrorist threats, worked with and against aliens, was a superhero and Clint was, well-

All the insecurities were still floating in the back of his head, lurking until the moment they could be let loose, causing as much mayhem as they could. The biggest one of all was the one that hurt the most from the moment Clint knew who his soulmate was- what did Natasha  _ really _ need him for?

_ No. Can’t think about that _ Clint firmly told himself. Natasha loved him, even if sometimes that love didn’t make sense. But it was unfair to say she was only using him for the soulbond. How many times did she say she loved him in ways outside of words? Those were the times Clint needed to focus on.

_ No. This is- this is just a bump. She is just trying to process everything and think of a way to tell me what I need to know. _ That sounded more like his Natasha- that she was trying to figure out a way to protect herself, shield herself from the things she wasn’t ready to talk about yet, and she knew there had to be a compromise so she was still working that out. Even if Clint thought it was taking too long, it was supposed to be all on her time- she’d come back to him in the end.

It didn’t necessarily lighten his mood much, but it helped him frame everything into a more reasonable context. It helped his anger tone down, melt away into… disappointment, maybe? Frustration for sure but it was more than that. In the end, it didn’t really matter how he felt right now, it wouldn’t change anything that was happening.

“Hey J, if they come home and try to reach me tell them I’ll be home later tonight,” Clint said when a loud rumble of thunder broke up his inner monologue. He grabbed a thick sweatshirt and tugged it on over his head, fixing his hearing aids before stomping his feet into boots, his sweatpants riding up.

_ “Certainly Mr. Barton. Would you like me to tell them where you are?” _

“Nah. They left me hanging for days. They can deal with a few hours,” Clint answered. He hesitated and looked at the two umbrellas near the door. He smiled a little at Natasha’s, a rainbow of colors; he had bought the umbrella for her last Christmas when he declared she had the world’s most boring umbrella. He was a little surprised how often she actually used it. He picked up his purple polka dot umbrella and headed out the door.

New York was just as busy in the rain as it was in the snow, or even the sunshine. People were still crowding the streets, except it was harder to run into each other when everyone was being mindful of the umbrellas. The subway was a little busier than normal, but hitting it at an odd hour was better than rush hour. Brock and Jack still lived out in Bed-Stuy, which made the trip from Manhattan a nightmare, but it was doable. What was an hour?

Bed-Stuy was a little quieter at this hour, the streets not nearly as packed thanks to the rain. Once he was off the subway, Clint felt like he could breathe again. He smiled as he looked around at the shops and the people, casually looking at everything around him. There were still some places he wanted to venture into before the holiday season- shopping small and local was his favorite thing to do, and some of these shops had the coolest trinkets he thought Natasha would love.

Clint jogged up the front stoop steps and closed his umbrella before using the passcode to get inside the building. A few short minutes later, Clint was using his spare key to get inside Jack and Brock’s apartment. Even if they weren’t home, Clint knew he was always welcome inside and-

“What in the hell is on your face?” Clint blurted out when he caught sight of Brock, who was scrambling to fling a pair of glasses off and away from him. Clint hesitated in the doorway as the two stared at each other. Slowly, Clint began to smile.

“We aren’t talkin’ about it,” Brock warned, doing his best to glare at Clint.

“Oh, we are so talking about it,” Clint laughed, closing the door behind him. “When did you start becoming an old man?” Brock flipped him off and tossed his book to the side. “They make you look older. Is it weird that it’s oddly hot?”

“Can you not for five minutes, Barton?” Brock asked, a slight hint of pink on his cheeks. Clint teetered his hand before he deposited himself onto the couch and picked up the remote. “What are you doing here?”

“Distracting myself.”

“... from what?”

“From the fact that Natasha is being a terrible soulmate,” Clint answered honestly. 

There was no reason to hide it- Brock would likely figure it out eventually. Anyway, how many times did Brock complain about Jack? Or Jack about Brock? At least by telling Brock, Clint knew he wasn’t going to have to explain himself; Jack likely would have wanted to talk about. And if Brock mentioned it to Natasha… oh well. She deserved it to a certain extent.

“Need me to beat her up for you?” Brock offered.

Clint had to glance his way to make sure they were still on the ‘I’m mostly just kidding’ level. Judging by the look in his eyes, the way his lips twitched up, Clint figured Brock was mostly playing. “Nah. She’ll let me win a round later.”

“Uh-huh.” Brock got up and came back, tossing a can Clint’s way and setting a chip bag down between them. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Thank fuck. I recorded MMA last night.”

“This is why we are friends,” Clint said with a smile, passing the remote over. He opened his can of soda, and slouched. “Date night tonight?”

“Nah. Jack wants to come home and finish a project he is workin’ on,” Brock answered. “He did notice you left work early a few days back.”

“What time is he off work?”

“Five. Going to run home by then?”

“Yep.” Clint got his phone out. “I’m thinking… burgers for lunch. You?”

“You know what I like.”

Clint fiddled with his phone, setting up their order. “Just so you know… you don’t look bad in glasses.”

“I said we ain’t talkin’ about it,” Brock scolded, Clint could  _ hear _ the scowl, which only made him smile more.

“You might not but I am,” Clint sang playfully, earning him a light jab to his side. Clint twitched away from the light touch, smiling more. “Sometimes if he is working on intricate designs Jack will wear ’em too.” Brock grunted in response and turned the show on. Clint glanced up at the television before he looked back down. “Probably all the smoke.”

“Probably.”

With their lunch ordered and their show on, Clint relaxed a little. His mind still drifted to the others, but it wasn’t like before. The action on the screen kept his attention and when that failed, Brock’s commentary certainly did. Years ago, Clint mostly watched MMA because that's what his previous relationships liked, or that was what Brock was into. Now he was picking apart some moves Natasha taught him, some of the same moves Steve and Sam did, Natasha, even Tony when he was feeling extra sassy. Watching his friends at work was graceful, almost like dancing with how they could glide across the floor. Now it was soothing in a different way, although Clint still didn’t exactly find the appeal of actually hitting people in the face; at least his friends pulled punches so no one had broken noses.

Clint grabbed their food when it was delivered and divvied it out. Clint pulled his legs up and crossed them as he ate, leaning forward some to easily reach the fries on the table. Brock leaned forward as well, eyes glued to the television.

“So you are actually fine?” Brock asked awkwardly.

“I’m actually fine. I just can’t stand sitting there waiting anymore, that’s all,” Clint answered. “Pretty sure we’re going to get in an argument but I can handle that. I just wish she’d actually text me. So I guess I’m more pissy than upset right now?”

Brock smirked and snorted. “You are a prissy, pissy bastard,” he commented.

“Fuck off,” Clint replied, scrunching his nose up before opening his burger package. “If you two get bored tonight, I’ll probably be out and about shopping.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brock replied. “Maybe dinner?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Full of food and ready for a nap, Clint sank into the couch more, watching as the MMA fights turned into a show about the ocean, specifically the depths. It was strange to think that out of the entire world, the majority of the ocean was still left unexplored. The idea of being trapped in a tiny submarine for that long made Clint twitch- that was too close quarters for too long. But the idea of actually finding something?

A vibration brought Clint back to the moment and he pulled his phone out.  _ Just landed. Having a meeting soon. Afterwards we need to get together to discuss what you should know. _ Clint read Steve’s message a few times before he turned his phone back off.

“Not going to reply?” Brock asked, not looking away from the television.

“I’m being a dick. Leave me alone,” Clint muttered.

“I like when you get sassy. It’s adorable. I actually support your cause.”

“Do I want to know why you are being supportive?” Clint asked before he finally looked over at Brock who merely shrugged. “... now I feel like I should do the opposite because… no, I'm officially confused.” Brock started to grin. “I hate you. Stop.”

“Payback for the glasses. You tell Red and I’m going to be pissed.”

“Pft, next time we all hang out I’m wearing fake glasses just to watch you squirm.”

“Hey, be a dick to your other friends. I liked it better,” Brock laughed, shoving Clint. “Ocean or desert?” he asked, grabbing the remote.

“Ocean. I want to be haunted with dreams of krakens tonight,” Clint answered. Brock snickered but set the remote back down after turning the sound up.

Clint left Brock and Jack’s apartment around four, trying to make sure he got well enough away before Jack got home and proceeded to ask him a million questions he didn’t feel like answering. He couldn’t properly describe what happened in the bakery a few days ago, or why he had to take time off today; and he certainly couldn’t explain why he was upset with Natasha, or any of them really, without coming across as a gigantic baby.

He knew he should text Steve back- he had texted yet again, but he had told JARVIS that he would be home when he got home. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the meeting with the team to find out what had happened. Clint wasn’t too sure he wanted to see their faces in case they all looked grim. He certainly wasn’t ready to see Natasha quite yet, because he knew a fight was looming and he wasn’t willing to back down on this one, and he couldn’t remember the last time she did when it was something serious.

Before he could reach the subway system he heard a dog barking like crazy and people shouting. He slowed his approach and then peered down an alley between two apartment buildings. The dog was a thin thing, fur all sorts of matted and in a pitiful state. The men were all yelling, shoving the dog around, and occasionally they would laugh.

“Hey,” Clint called down the alley, walking towards them briskly. “Leave the mutt alone,” he demanded. He didn’t take into account there were five of them and one of him, he just wanted to move the dog along safely because near the other end of the alley was a busy street, and they were standing awfully close to it.

“What you know about dog?” one of the men shouted at him, sounding amused. “Dog bites, bro.”

“Yeah, probably because you all are taunting it with pizza,” Clint said. He stopped just a few feet away. “Look, if you don’t want the dog, I can take it off your hands or something. Take it to a shelter or-”

“It is our dog, bro. Now shoo,” the same man said before kicking the dog away when it got close to the food, laughing.

“Seriously, stop fucking kicking and shoving the dog,” Clint said, his anger sparking instantly.

The tallest man in the group turned and walked closer. He was broader than Clint, but shorter; not that it meant much- if the guy had a weapon, Clint was still at a high disadvantage. “And… what will you do about it?” he asked, sneering.

Clint knew there was nothing he could do but call the cops. By the time they arrived, because this wasn’t ever going to be their priority, these people and the dog would be long gone. The best he could do was try to talk his way, and the dog’s way, out of a terrible situation, and that wasn’t exactly something Clint excelled at, especially when he was already mad.

“Yeah bro,” another man said, stepping up. He reached out and shoved at Clint’s shoulder, a menacing smile on his face.

“Don’t call me your bro,  _ bro _ ,” Clint said as calmly as he could. “Just let me take the dog and-”

When the man went to shove him again Clint grabbed his arm and used the momentum to flip him. He had the element of surprise for maybe a second or two before it broke out into a fight. Was it stupid? Yeah, but Clint was pretty used to making stupid, spur of the moment decisions. He tried to battle back, or rather forward, trying to get it so he could snatch the dog and run. He figured he might be able to carry it into public view and discourage the men from following or harassing him.

Clint stumbled back, something sharp smacking his face before he had a gun pointed at his face. “You stupid, bro? Got a death wish, bro?” It sounded muffled, not quite loud and Clint wondered when his left hearing aid got dislodged.

In a horrifying moment, the dog lunged, biting the man’s arm and tried to drag him a bit, shaking his head. Clint shouted but before he could get a move on things one of the men grabbed the dog and flung it. Clint bolted from his spot but he was too late-

“Mr Barton?” a man asked. Clint opened his eyes and looked up at the vet tech. “You can---- now.” Clint mostly had to lip read the words, both of his hearing aids dead at this point.

Clint nodded and pulled himself up. Every muscle in his body felt stiff, and he had a raging headache. He wasn’t sure who was going to be the most pitiful sight now- the mutt or him. Clint followed the man back into the room where the dog was laying on the table, all bandaged up and sleeping. Clint let out a relieved sob- the dog was at least still alive.

“Whats the damage?” Clint asked. “And, uh- look at me? My hearing aids are dead,” he admitted, feeling his face heat up. 

“He has a broken pelvis, a broken leg, two bro- ribs, and -tunately he lost an eye,” the vet said slowly and loudly. “--- pay with your---” the man said as he turned away and Clint wanted to cry. The man turned back. “He’s come this---, he’ll--- okay.”

Clint nodded and pulled his wallet out. He hesitated before he handed over his credit card. “Whatever it costs,” he said before he walked to the table and ran a hand over the dog’s head and body gently. “Don’t worry- I’ll take good care of you. Hey- can I stay in here for a few? I need to text for a ride.”

“Of course,” the vet said, clearly hesitant and distrustful but not willing to fight it.

Clint sighed and he looked at his phone for the first time in hours. He winced at the number of calls and texts, but there were a handful in particular he wasn’t excited to see.

_ Look, I get you are mad at me, and it is well deserved. But answer your phone. _

_ Clint, I am being serious. I am worried. _

_ What did I tell you about turning your location tracker off? _

The most troubling one was sent about twenty minutes ago.  _ This isn’t funny, Clint. If this is pay back because I didn’t call you, it’s immature. And whatever happened approximately two and a half hours ago? We don’t have to talk about it but you need to call me. You have a half hour before I start tearing this city apart. _

Admittedly, Clint hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Shakingly, he hit the facetime button, preparing for the worst.

_ “The hell is your problem?” _ Natasha asked right off the back. Clint felt the words catch in his throat. She was on the screen, she was safely tucked away at Avengers Tower, not a scratch on her from what little Clint could see. He blinked his eyes and averted them, determined not to cry. “ _ What happened?” _

“I can’t… I can’t hear you very well,” Clint admitted, looking back up. “My hearing aids kinda went out. Well, I think. Might have gotten damaged.” Only his left ear hurt him at this point, but he couldn’t tell if he was favoring a side or if they just died. He clicked around on his phone. “Just… can you have Happy come get us, please?”

Clint watched Natasha scan her phone, her face illuminated from the screen’s light.  _ “Why are you at an emergency vet?” _ she asked. Clint reluctantly turned his phone’s camera over to the dog on the table before he switched it back. He couldn’t quite read Natasha’s face- he wasn’t sure if she was irritated or furious at this point.  _ “We will be there.” _

“Thank you,” Clint said just before the video ended.

Clint leaned forward with a groan, one hand holding his ribs while the other reached out and touched the dog. One sleepy eye opened and the poor thing let out a pitiful whine. “I know, buddy. But I promise… never again.” He stroked his back carefully as he watched the dog. “You are going to get me in so much trouble though. It’s going to be worth it. Hopefully.”

It was close to forty minutes before the vet tech from before opened the door, Happy standing behind him. “Hey,” Clint greeted. “Thanks for coming, man.” Clint slowly made his way to his feet, his body telling him exactly how much he was going to regret his life choices in the morning. “Carrying this guy all the way back home was going to suck.” Clint walked over to the table with Happy. “So…. uh… can you help me or-”

Happy carefully picked the dog up, shushing the whining as he walked. “You are lucky I’m a dog person,” he said loudly.

“Glad he’s brought me some luck,” Clint mumbled, following behind Happy. “Maybe I should just name him Lucky. Lucky he had me, lucky he has you, Lucky he has-”

Natasha got out of the car and opened the back door for Happy. Clint stopped his approach and he felt his eyes welling up. He knew she was safe, he knew it from the video call. But seeing her in person? He wanted to be mad and upset with her, but he was just relieved she was there, covered up in leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair up in a neat bun.

“Clint?” Natasha asked.

Clint shook his head and walked over and hugged her loosely at first before he tightened his hold. He dropped his head and buried his face against her neck. After a few seconds, he felt her hands snake up his back as she held him as well. Everything was going to be alright- it had to. For the first time in days, a sense of pure calm washed through the soulbond, so soothing Clint forgot he was standing and he almost lost his footing.

“Let’s go home,” Natasha said, barely a whisper in his ear.

Clint climbed in and Natasha followed, closing the door. Clint sank into his seat and looked at the dog, Lucky, as he felt his eyes drooping. He was tired, the adrenaline ebbing from today’s activities. A hand covered his before it turned his hand over, gripping it lightly, tentative. He turned his head to look at Natasha and offer her a weak sort of smile before she let go of his hand.

_ Talk tomorrow. Sleep tonight. _

_ Dog too _ Clint asked hesitantly, his eyebrows pulling down and staying that way.

Natasha looked over at the dog, her nose scrunching for a moment. Clint knew she didn’t want any animals- he wasn’t sure if it was because of the hair or a general disliking but they had this talk before, which was more of a demand on Natasha’s end, and Clint had let it go. But this dog-

Clint looked back at Lucky, sleeping on the bench seat in the back of the limo. He wanted to keep this dog. He couldn’t explain it really, but he fell in love with it the moment he had laid eyes on it. It was trusting, and it had spirit, and it fought back. Maybe the dog hit a little close to home, maybe Lucky reminded Clint of himself a little.

Before Clint knew it, and a very short nap later, Natasha was nudging him to get out of the car. Clint climbed out after her and carefully got a hold of Lucky, trying to soothe the dog as it whined and whimpered. Natasha flashed him a concerned look, her eyes flickering down to the dog.  _ Is he alright? _ Clint didn’t need to hear her say it or see Natasha sign it. He smiled and shrugged before he walked.

“Thanks Happy,” he said through a yawn. Clint didn’t bother to wait for a reply- he wasn’t going to hear it well anyway, nor could he see Happy’s lips with his back turned. Instead he followed after Natasha and onto the elevator.

It was almost too calm in the Tower. Normally by now he would have heard JARVIS, or a screen would have popped down for him to read. But none of that happened- he was left in near silence with Natasha on the long ride up, and the long stroll down the hallway to their apartment. There was a small bit of tension on the soulbond, nothing that would have normally alarmed Clint but today was a bit different.

Stopping right inside the doorway, Clint watched Natasha until she turned around. That tension built a little, thrumming through the bond and Clint had to look down and away. It took only a few seconds before her hand grazed over his face, pulling at Clint until he looked at her.

_ Dog stay tonight. We talk morning. Tonight we sleep. Cuddle? _

Clint nodded, and the tension lessened instantly. Natasha gave him a reassuring smile before she went into one of the hallway closets and got out a few blankets. She paused and looked around before she found a spot a short distance from the door and tossed the blankets around. Clint carefully set the dog down in the blanket pile.

_ I will order supplies. You take shower. Smell.  _ Natasha signed , his nose scrunching up.  _ I will help. _

Clint signed a quick thank you before he tossed his dead hearing aids off to the side.  _ Just another thing I’ll have to do in the morning  _ he thought as he fumbled around getting sleepwear out before he took his shower. The heat stung at the abrasions, but it loosened his muscles- it was a trade off he was willing to take. He leaned an arm against the side wall and tucked his head into the crook, focusing on breathing and calming down before he washed his hair, trying to be careful of the cuts. He hissed a few times in the process before he called it good enough.

He looked miserable. Bruises everywhere, his lip cut, scuff marks from when he banged up against a wall. At least his nose wasn’t broken, at least he had that going for him. He stared at himself in the mirror before he hung his head.  _ What was I thinking? Rushing in like that- like I could have handled it. _ In a way he supposed he did handle it- Lucky was sleeping in the apartment, at least for now; he hadn’t died, neither of them had, and saving the dog was worth all the split lips in the world.

Flinching when a cool hand touched his shoulder, Clint turned and moved with Natasha until he was seated on the toilet. He felt like a child, somewhere between being scared and angry, although the feeling of being worn was winning out. Natasha grabbed a first aid kit from under the sink, one of many they kept tucked away in the apartment. She gave him a short lived smile before she tended to his lip, the scuff on his cheek, her fingers barely brushing against his skin as she worked. She didn’t look mad anymore, only relieved it seemed, and that only made Clint’s feel worse about the whole day.

He closed his eyes and pulled his lip into his mouth, nibbling on it despite the pain. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from crying. He was exhausted, he was hurt, he was upset, his emotions running all over the place all day. He was  _ happy _ , damn it- he was happy that they were here, the argument waiting for another time, and for tonight he could have this. So what was he so wound up about? They had been through worse.

Natasha left him momentarily before she came back with his spare set of hearing aids. Clint took them and gingerly put them in, tinkering with the left a little. “What is it, lyubov’ moya?” Natasha asked gently as she cleaned up the mess.

“I’m sorry,” Clint replied.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to go to bed an-”

“I am not angry with you,” Natasha said, crouching down to put the first aid kit back. “I was- I was very angry with you. At everything. But… I made mistakes too, and we just need to find that balance again.” Natasha sat down next to the sink, leaning against the door. “A dog though?”

“So uhm…” Clint began nervously. “I was walking to the shops in Brooklyn. Well, outside of Bed-Stuy really, where everything is a little cheaper. I wanted to get you something if I could find it.” Natasha took her hair out of the bun and fluffed it as it cascaded down, her eyes only leaving him momentarily as she put the hair tie in her mouth as she worked on braiding her hair. “And I heard some noises. And these guys- they were taunting Lucky-”

“Oh God, you named it,” Natasha groaned.

Clint smiled a little at that groan. He had heard it a few times before, when she was being playful. “They were teasing it with pizza, and he looks so scrawny as it is. And then when Lucky would get close enough they would hit him, or shove him, sometimes kick him. And…”

Natasha nodded, encouraging Clint to talk about it, and Clint let the words hang for a moment. “They… threw him into traffic and I… I don’t  _ care _ if someone hits me, or kicks me, or whatever. But a  _ dog _ , Nat.” Clint felt his eyes watering again and he leaned back until his shoulders were against the wall. It was an awkward lean, but it worked as he looked at the ceiling. “I didn’t know anyone texted me because I rushed him to the vet and I just… I zoned. I was scared, running off adrenaline and I didn’t think. I wasn’t trying to ignore anyone. I mean, earlier in the day, yeah, but-”

Natasha was up off from the ground and to him in no time flat. She held his face in her fingers before she leaned down and kissed him. It was soft, sweet, hesitant as could be- almost like she was afraid of something too. Clint reached out and touched her hips lightly before she broke away, touching her forehead against his.

“I don’t deserve you,” Natasha said, Clint looking as that sad, painfully honest smile spread across her face and into her eyes.

“Funny, I was thinkin’ the same thing,'' Clint answered. Natasha shook her head a little and he reached up, holding her wrists lightly. He mimicked her, taking a deep breath when she did, finding his center as she did, the bond between them blissfully calm for a moment. “You… you don’t have to tell me anything. Just tell me if we are okay or not. Whatever happened on your mission- are we okay?”

Natasha went silent, searching his eyes, his face, before she kissed him again, straddling his lap before she sat down. Clint was still stuck on the feeling of goodbye with this kiss, just like before she left, and he pulled away from it. “Nat. Please.”

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Natasha promised. “I don’t know how yet, but I know we will.” Natasha stood up and helped him to his feet. “Can we go to bed?”

“You’ll be there when I wake up?” Clint asked.

He almost hated himself for asking it, but he needed the reassurance. Natasha flinched at the words before she reached down and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll be there. Or maybe the living room. Lets see who wakes up first?” she offered.

Going to bed with the sense of impending doom wasn’t easy. Maybe it wasn’t doom exactly, but something was looming over their heads, barely there, touching the surface, making it difficult to not talk about it. Clint glanced at the paintings above the bed, his mind going back to before this happened, before this sense of gloom hung above them. Maybe Natasha was right about her art theory. Despite the paintings having a nighttime background, there were stars, and everything was bright. It was hopeful. 

Clint looked at Natasha as she settled into bed, wearing his shorts and shirt, swamped in both as she grabbed a bottle of lotion. Climbing in next to Natasha, Clint took out his spare hearing aids and turned them off before he settled, his eyes still on the paintings until the lights went off.

Maybe it wasn’t really about Natasha doing better, being better, or however she saw herself. Maybe in some way it was about them coming together, getting on the same page. It was about peace, finding the middle ground, making it work, because it took a  _ lot _ of work. But now… now maybe they had the tools to weather the storm better than they ever had before.

Natasha turned, pressing her body against Clint’s before she kissed his shoulder, mumbling words against his skin. Clint smiled and turned his head, his lips barely able to brush against the top of her head, more hair than anything. 

Maybe it was a thought for another day. For now- they had this.


	5. Chapter 5

Dim light poured into the bedroom and Clint squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to fall back asleep, but no dice. He opened his eyes and looked at the early morning glow, the sky lit with pinks and oranges, barely lighting up the room. It had to be somewhere around six-thirty in the morning. He took a deep breath before he turned onto his back and let his head roll over to look at Natasha. She was still fast asleep, sleeping on her stomach, her arms tucked around a pillow. She still had bags under her eyes and Clint wondered when she had actually fallen asleep.

He laid there as long as his body would let him, looking at Natasha for a moment before he closed his eyes. For the first time, everything felt at ease between them and their bond. It was soothing, a gentleness Clint had missed, and something he would miss when Natasha woke up and they would need to talk. If anything, he was hopeful that being back together would calm the underlying storm between them.

When his body won out, Clint brushed back a bit of Natasha’s hair and kissed her forehead before he got up. He used the restroom, brushed his teeth and peered back out.  _ Still asleep _ . Clint carefully grabbed clothes that he knew were dirty but it was more important to him that Natasha slept, and opening his drawers wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. He snatched up his hearing aids on the way out, making a note to talk to Tony about his other ones as he turned his spare set on.

Clint shuffled his way to the living room and peeked around the bend. Lucky was laying in his bed of blankets still, though at some point he had moved, just a little, because he was facing the other way. Inside the apartment was a stack of supplies- food, bowls, a bed, even a few toys. Clint’s eyes widened and he inched his way closer and his fingers brushed against a collar, a name tag already attached.

With a smile on his face, Clint wrote a note on their wipe-off board, letting Natasha know he was going to attempt to take Lucky outside. He picked up the collar, and the leash, and sat down next to the makeshift bed Lucky was laying on. “Hey buddy,” Clint said gently, reaching out and stroking his back lightly. Lucky opened his eye and gave a few tired tail thumps. “Hey, you think we can go outside go potty?” he asked. “I uh- huh. Stay here.” Clint got up and grabbed his tablet. “JARVIS- can you help me out? How do I… uh, care for a dog that has a broken everything?”

Nearly a half hour and a few mess ups later, Clint managed to get a makeshift sling under Lucky, supporting most of the dog’s weight, and they were outside, taking tentative steps around in the grass. Clint was all smiles, cooing out words of encouragement to Lucky as they walked around.

“Hey.” Clint turned a little to look at Steve as he walked over. He looked tired, a five o’clock shadow on his jaw that was rarely there. “You both look like hell,” he commented, his arms crossed over his chest. He was closed off, hesitant but-

“Yeah, yesterday wasn’t great. But I got a dog out of it,” Clint said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, replacing it with as much cheerfulness as he could. “This is Lucky. Lucky boy, this is Steve. Captain America. We like Captain America.”

Lucky hobbled closer, his tail tucked, ears back. Steve looked at the dog with a curious expression. “Does he bite?”

“I think only Russians in terrible tracksuits,” Clint answered.

Steve chuckled before he crouched down, holding one hand out. “Hey buddy,” he said gently. This was the side of Steve Clint was more familiar with; sure, he looked exhausted still, but he had a smile on his face, looked a little less doom and gloom and more… at peace. Lucky stretched his neck out, sniffing Steve’s fingertips before his tail lifted, giving a few tick tocks before he stumbled forward, leaning against Steve. Steve chuckled and pet the dog carefully. “This has got to be a good story.”

“It’s not the best but we made it,” Clint answered. “Rescued the dog from some assholes. He… got hurt and I took him to the vet. Thats why I didn’t answer my phone when everyone was texting.”

Steve looked up. “What does Natasha think?”

“Well, she didn’t seem thrilled but she bought Lucky food and toys and a personalized collar so I mean…” Clint teetered his free hand. Steve snorted and smiled more, focusing on Lucky some more. “Tony is going to kill me. No pet policy.”

“Tony is a pushover. He might gripe about it a bit, but he’s a sucker,” Steve replied with confidence. He stood up, Lucky still bracing himself against Steve’s legs. “It's none of my business, but have you and Natasha talked yet?” he asked.

Clint shook his head and looked down. “Not yet. Today. She’s sleeping. Or she was when I left to bring Lucko outside.”

“I’m glad she’s sleeping. She didn’t do a lot of that,” Steve said, his eyes down on the ground, the smile gone. “I’m going to let her tell you everything. We were going to sit down as a group but-”

“No one is coping well,” Clint offered.

“That.” Steve looked up before he gave Clint a forced smile. “Want help getting him back inside? I can carry him,” he offered.

“That would actually be amazing,” Clint replied. “I think we are done out here. He just needs to get some rest, build up strength and everything.”  _ Kind of like you all _ Clint thought to himself.

Steve was quiet when they managed to get back inside. Everything was still eerily quiet. Normally Clint would be passing by busy reporters, busybodies, even people from S.H.I.E.L.D on his way to the elevator. But now, but the Tower was unusually empty, lights turned off that were normally on. It was almost eerie to Clint. Clint glanced at Steve, his face nothing more than a mask.

“I don’t know what happened yet, but it’s going to be okay,” Clint offered. “Probably doesn’t feel like, and it doesn’t mean much coming from me but-”

“Thank you.” Steve offered him a genuine smile, and though it wasn’t one of his sprawling ones, it was still nice to see. “It will be okay. We just have a lot on our plates and are trying to figure out how to… fix it all while keeping everyone safe.” Steve looked down at Lucky before he looked at Clint. “Stay close to home, Clint. I know you like going out with Brock and Jack but…”

The elevator opened and Steve stepped out without finishing his statement. Clint stared after him for a moment before he jogged to catch up and opened the door. With a little bit of fussing, Steve got Lucky into his new dog bed, Lucky sighed as Steve helped him stand and move until he found the spot that worked best. Steve pet the top of his head, whispering to Lucky in words Clint had no hopes of hearing. He could always ask JARVIS later, but it seemed trivial. Steve needed Lucky at the moment, in his own quiet and soft way, before he headed out with a smile and a mock salute. Clint kept the small talk short, waving and closing the door after him.

Clint crept back to the bedroom and opened the door, peeking his head in. Natasha was sitting up in the bed, arms wrapped around her legs. She looked over when Clint opened the door and gave him a wibbly smile, her eyes still holding that exhausted look, just like Steve’s, and Clint assumed everyone else as well. She was still in his clothes from last night, her hair a messy pile on top of her head.

“Hey,” Clint greeted, slipping in and walking over.

“Hey,” Natasha replied. “How’s the dog?”

“Back sleeping,” Clint answered. “Went potty outside. Had minimal issues.” Clint crawled onto the bed and mimicked Natasha’s posture. Slowly, Natasha uncurled from herself and leaned against Clint. “You alright, hun?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha answered with a sigh.

“Can you maybe define fine?” Clint asked.

Natasha was silent for a moment before Clint felt her shift a little. “I just want to keep you safe, and I can’t figure out how to do it,” she answered, rubbing her head against his shoulder. “I already ask too much from you, I can’t ask for more. It would unbalance our relationship.”

“If it’s a temporary thing then I can-”

“No.” Natasha leaned back against the headboard, pulling her legs up again. Clint followed her, settling so that his shoulders brushed against hers. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand until she turned it over and held his hand. “What happened on your end of the bond?” she asked. “What do you know?”

Now it was Clint’s turn to hesitate. Most of what happened didn’t make sense. It was like before he knew Natasha, when he would hear little segments of her life, feel them without truly knowing what it all meant. But it was more this time. It was putting it all into words where Clint struggled.

“I heard people talking in Russian when you started to feel scared. I couldn’t really make out what they were saying, I only know a few words,” Clint answered. “And as it went on you kept getting more scared, and the voices got louder. And then it got quiet for one moment and I opened my eyes and-”

Clint swallowed back the fear that was building. It was the part he still didn’t understand, the part he should probably research, but he didn’t want to know the answer. “I saw someone.” Natasha’s hand tightened around his. “And you were terrified, you thought you were dying or were going to die. And I saw… I don’t know. It was a person, a little taller than you, not by much. So much black, a hint of grey and a splash of red and-”

“The Winter Soldier,” Natasha whispered.

Clint hadn’t heard of that name before and tried to commit it to memory for later. “And then I heard her voice. Someone I remember from when we were younger. Much younger. The lady who told you love was for children.”

Clint hadn’t realized just how worked up he was talking about it before Natasha tried to push past his emotions on the bonds to calm him. It might have helped if she didn’t have an undercurrent of fear as well. “I’m sorry, Nat. Whatever happened? I couldn’t stop it. I tried so hard to find a way to ground us and I couldn’t. And then you screamed my name and-”

Natasha shifted and moved, moved Clint, until she could lay against him, her head on his chest and his arms around her. He squeezed his eyes shut and held back the tears the best he could, she seemingly doing the same. Natasha’s shoulders and arms shook, just barely as she struggled to keep herself in check, something Clint wished she wouldn’t do. There was so much to Natasha he hadn’t learned just yet, so many pieces of a puzzle that shaped and molded her into who she was. But the unwillingness to feel certain things? To break down and cry around him? It was his least favorite thing. Even if he hated it when she finally did break down, at least it was something he could help her through, tell her it was normal, convince her it was okay.

Clint stared straight ahead at the wall, their televisions providing a background to see the dust gently float around in the air. In its own way that was soothing enough to calm him down. How many times had he done that before? Found something so small to focus on until he could hear something other than his heart pounding in his chest? A lot of times it was the dust, or the swaying of grass, corn, sedges.

“We didn’t… exactly fail the mission, but there were consequences for everyone. Well, almost,” Natasha said. “One minute I am making my way through the location the next- I was hit with something. This… red mist at first. Magic.” Natasha looked down right uncomfortable and Clint would have given up everything in the world to wipe the haunted look off her face. “At first it was memories, but over them were different words. Someone speaking. And then-”

Natasha took a deep breath, putting steel into her spine it seemed, trying to toughen up. “They sent him after you. They had you and she was there. She’s dead though. I know she is- I killed her. But she was there and reminded me that love was for children. And then he did it.” Natashas hands started to shake and she tried to pull away but Clint tightened his hold. “Every one of us saw our fears. Of being alone. Failing. Whatever it was. But this was the one I knew before I met you- when I knew you were there and I would do anything to protect you. I can’t lose you, Clint.”

“Hey,” Clint said, holding her face and brushing away the tears. “Hey. It was just a… a dream. A nightmare.”

“It was a promise,” Natasha said, a hitch in her tone. Clint shook his head and leaned forward, his forehead against hers as he held her. Her hands grabbed his wrists. “What if it is all true? Someone could hurt you, Clint. It’s already happened when Barney-”

“I know.”

Clint wished he had a solution for her, anything to ease her mind. He knew this was always in the back of her mind, he had heard it a few times when they trained together and her focus wasn’t on blocking him out. It was the reason they almost didn’t cement the soulbond and let it rot away. Despite everything, Natasha protected the people around her to the best of her abilities, even if that meant sacrificing whatever piece of herself that she needed to, even if that meant losing someone because it was better that way.

It was the one thing Clint could never promise her. He couldn’t promise not to get kidnapped, that had already happened once. He couldn’t promise they were safe because they weren’t, they never were, even in Avengers Tower. He couldn’t say people didn’t know because they had slowly let more people into knowing about them. And it was frustrating when all he wanted to do was ease her mind and the pain, and there wasn’t a solution as to how.

“A compromise,” Clint said softly, leaning back and letting his hands drop from her face to her shoulder. Natasha looked at him before she wiped the tears from her face. “I… I only work at the bakery a few blocks away. I stay in this area. Jack and Brock… they will have to come visit me I guess.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Natasha said firmly. “I’ve already asked-”

“I’m not finished,” Clint said. Natasha eyed him for a moment but remained silent. “I will leave the Tower with someone, and I don’t go alone. We always have a backup plan.” Clint shifted a little, shifting Natasha’s weight off him a little. “I can’t stop working- I can’t sit around here and feel useless-”

“You  _ are not _ useless,” Natasha said with a growl.

“-but I can limit exposure,” Clint finished. “At least for a little while. At least until you feel things are safer.”

It was like all the fight and energy left Natasha’s body and she sagged a little. “You’ll hate every minute of being monitored and you know it,” she said.

“I hate you being like this just a little bit more,” Clint said with a weak laugh. “I’m keeping Lucky though. Whether that means Stark puts a… a grassy field on the roof or I have to go walking around New York with him in his shiny metal ‘look at me’ outfit, I’m keeping the dog.”

Natasha smiled a little at that, her head tilting off to the side. “He’s looking for a way to make the suit out of nanotech. Then he’d just touch a button hidden somewhere and then he’s encased.”

“He’s such a nerd,” Clint commented and for the first time, Natasha laughed. She hiccuped a sad little sob of a laugh but she laughed, and Clint’s heart fluttered. “We will make this work, Nat. In any way we can. I can’t promise you that everything will be alright because I just can’t. But we can limit risks.”

“It's not fair to you,” Natasha said lightly. She wasn’t arguing or fighting anymore, just making a statement. “This wasn’t what I would have ever wanted for you. Nor what you wanted for yourself. I had hoped we had more time before… before anyone found out about us. But with Barney knowing, it was only a matter of time.”

“Believe it or not, as much as I hate the idea of Steve sneaking around in all black watching me,” Clint said and Natasha laughed again, this time less of a sob and more genuine, “I’m kind of happy we are doing this. Just means I get to enjoy more things with you without… without you worrying so damn much.”

Natasha got a soft look in her eyes before she leaned forward and kissed him. Clint sank into the moment, his head filled with a pleasant buzzing. Natasha’s fingers slid their way under his shirt, her nails lightly dragging across his skin and he shivered. Clint leaned back a little before he took his shirt off, tossing it to the side. On the same page, Natasha tossed her shirt off to the side as well before she grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him back against the headboard.

_ “I am sorry to interrupt but Tony wanted to know how Clint liked training room three,”  _ JARVIS said.

Clint watched as Natasha’s face turned from slight irritation that Clint had allowed JARVIS more access to awe and surprise. She scanned Clint’s face. “You used training room three?”

“I didn’t know they were numbered.”

“It states it above the door,” Natasha informed, amused.

“Tell Tony it was fine. Fun even. Would do it again,” Clint answered, hoping JARVIS would pick up the dismissive tone. “Okay, so-”

“What did you do?”

“Natasha, we both have shirts off. This is unfair at this point,” Clint whined openly. “I’m halfway there.” Natasha looked positively delighted, too amused for Clint to even whine too much. “I got bored, I was nervous, and nothing was working for too long. So J helped me run a very basic simulation and we worked on it until he made me take a break for the night. And I went to bed.”

“How advanced did you get?”

“I dunno. Pre-K at Avengers Academy level?” Clint mused. “I was allowed to climb like two or three stories, shot things, and got shot back but it wasn’t counted against me? It was fun. I got to jump onto the net thing. Gotta admit, that is fun.”

Natasha had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “That is… very sexy,” she admitted.

“.... which part?”

Natasha’s laugh was light and airy. “Shut up,” she said, before pushing him back down, the only encouragement he needed.

That night, Clint collapsed on the couch next to Natasha, dishes done and their leftovers stored in the fridge. Lucky had settled back into sleep, curled up in the purple bed Natasha had bought. Natasha was watching a show on the English monarchy, which was something new. Clint leaned over until he could settle against her.

It hadn’t been the worst day, just an emotionally draining one. He didn’t run into any of the others, everyone seeming to go quiet, even Tony. He received one text from the guy, asking if there were any adjustments he needed to make to training room three for Clint. Clint sent back a short response- no. It wasn’t his space- it wasn’t his to change, not that he knew where to begin if he could. Aside from that, everything had gone quiet.

Natasha requested soup for dinner, something Clint could easily make. It was a simple chicken noodle soup, and he scrambled to make a rosemary bread that they both liked from the last time he made it. Dinner was a little on the later side that night, but Clint didn’t care so much, and Natasha certainly didn’t complain.

“You need to go to bed,” Natasha said. “You work tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine,” Clint answered.

“Clint,” Natasha said sternly.

“If I don’t go, are you going to spank me?”

“Tempted.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Clint said with a smile, cozying in a little more. “Let me have a few minutes, alright? I missed you.”

“I missed you too, lyubov’ moya,” Natasha replied, planting a kiss at his hairline and lingering. “I know I should have called. I am-”

“Don’t.”

“Clint, I need to-”

“No.” Clint smiled a little and adjusted himself, trying to get into her lap, make himself smaller, cling to her. Natasha laughed and started shoving at him. “We’ve lingered on that bit of drama long enough. I want happy snuggle time now, where my girlfriend, also known as you, pets me and tells me what a good boy I am.”

“I told you that enough earlier,” Natasha laughed.

“Telling me I’m good during sex does  _ not _ count. I know I’m good there,” Clint bragged.

Natasha managed to shove him down against the couch and pin him. Clint still was amazed at how fast she could move. All at once, she collapsed down on top of him, wiggling around, kneeing and elbowing him playfully, drawing it out some until finally she went lax. “Good boyfriend. Now hush- I’m watching something.”

“Wow,” Clint said dryly.

“You knew who you were dating when you agreed to dating me,” Natasha said simply. It wasn’t like she was lying- he had known her for a few months before they made anything official. Her hand rubbed over his chest before she kissed the spot she had just rubbed and that sense of  _ mine _ came back, something he had missed in the last few days. “Take your hearing aids out. I’ll wake you to go to bed.”

“Yeah, fine,” Clint said in a dramatic fashion, although he clumsily complied.

Natasha must have told JARVIS to dim the lights because the room went dark fast until the other thing lighting it up was the warm, soft glow from the overhead, and the television flashing in cooler colors. Clint moved until he got his pillow into the right spot and he could let his head loll to the side as he drifted off. His hands roamed over Natasha’s back, slow and aimless, his eyes struggling to stay open.

Tomorrow he would talk to Jack and Brock about changes to his lifestyle, their friendship, everything. He couldn’t tell them everything, it was too much of a risk, something Natasha would have been nervous about, but he had to tell them something. 

Whatever his plan was could wait for the morning though. For now he was too content laying on the couch, Natasha relaxing against him, off to the side a little now, taking some of the weight off so he could be comfortable. He glanced at the television, still confused as to why she was watching the show she had picked, but he turned his head away and closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay so why am I here?” Brock asked, sitting in a chair near the entryway door. It was early in the morning, before Brock’s shift started and while Clint and Jack were both busy at work. “I don’t like this hour of the day. It should be illegal. Also- why does it look like you lost a fight to Mike Tyson?”

“Try five Mike Tysons,” Clint grumbled as he worked, his eyes scanning between the design he had printed out and the small figures he was making out of cake, frosting, and fondant. “And you are here because I need to get this off my chest, and I’m working today. All day.” He did glance up then, looking at Jack who tried to focus on what he was doing. It didn’t take a soulbond to feel his concern, it was written all over his body language.

“Should we even ask?” Jack asked, trying to sound amused.

“Saw some guys abusing a dog, stepped in, got my ass kicked but now I own a dog so- who’s the real loser here?” Clint asked.

“Your face,” Jack answered.

“Wait! Red let you have a dog?” Brock asked.

“Focusing on the important part, are we?” Jack asked, looking up with a smile to his partner.

“Why do you get a dog and I can’t get a bird?”

“I told you, you can get a fish,” Jack answered. Brock scrunched his nose at the thought, crossing his arms. “So… what is it?” he asked, glancing Clint’s way before they both dug into their work.

“I kinda need to… lay low for a while,” Clint answered. “Something happened and it has everyone a little spooked. So I made a compromise with Natasha, something to help ease her mind a little. I’m kinda on house arrest. I’m allowed to go out and do things, just not… alone.”

It was a little too quiet and Clint looked up at Brock, then Jack, then back to Brock. If anyone could have a silent communication, it was those two. It was weird to Clint how much of Natasha he could see in Brock- like when they were making small facial changes, mild irritation, even small smirks. It was the same quiet storm building behind their eyes that Clint really noticed- a look he didn’t like on either of them really. And then there was Jack- his face almost a neutral slate, an eyebrow raised towards Brock, a “well what are you going to do about it” look.

“And you are alright with this?” Jack asked.

“We all make sacrifices, right?” Clint asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah, we all do,” Brock said, that irritation spilling out into his tone.

“Just come out and say it,” Clint said with a sigh. “We all know you’re going to do it anyway, might as well get it done with.”

Brock rolled his eyes and he got up. “I’m not saying shit. You’re a big boy, can make your own decisions.” He picked the chair up he was sitting on. “You wanna keep giving and giving until there is nothing else? By my guest.”

“It’s not like that,” Clint insisted.

“Sure it ain’t buddy,” Brock said, mocking him. “Just because she’s your soulmate doesn’t mean she can’t use ya like the rest of ‘em. You know that.”

“Brock,” Jack said, sounding just as shocked as Clint felt.

“I’m not taking it back,” Brock told them, going to put the chair back in the office.

Clint looked down at his workstation. He knew it was coming- but hearing it was worse than what Clint expected. It wasn’t like Brock was wrong- his parents were soulmates and yet Clint’s dad ran his mother into the grave right along with him. And try as he might, Clint still couldn’t understand how a soulmate could do that to another person, why they would want to. He knew the bond took work, just like every relationship, but he never expected it to be so… toxic and unhealthy.

“Jackie, I’ll see ya tonight. Clint- see ya whenever,” Brock announced before he left.

Clint took a deep breath and got back to work, forming the shapes he needed for his cake. He could ignore it- how many times before had chosen to ignore the uncomfortable feeling, throwing himself into something that could take the edge off a little? But it was harder when you weren’t alone.

“He shouldn’t have said it,” Jack said softly.

“Yeah, but he isn’t wrong,” Clint answered. He swallowed back the feeling of wanting to cry, blinked his eyes rapidly, glanced at the ceiling, then focused again on his work. “She’s not like that. She sacrifices too. It’s just… not in the same way.”

And it was true. Natasha gave up plenty in order to try to make this work. She was learning to let people in, to trust, to share. And it took a lot of time and patience, but it was worth it. Every time she would happen to glance over with a smile when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the small touches occasionally, even the rare occurrences of waking up to her cuddled in close- all of that was worth the few changes he was making.

“Let me ask you something,” Jack said calmly, moving around, not looking up from his work. “And I don’t mean it as a slam, or to imply anything. But your answer can help me get Brock to settle.”

“Shoot,” Clint said, moving the pieces he had made off to the side and checking the design again. He loved mermaid cakes- he didn’t know what kicked off the mermaid trend, but he liked shaping the scales so he could paint them. They always looked so… delicate.

“Are you happy?” Jack asked.

Clint glanced up at Jack, locking eyes for a moment before he smiled. “Remember when we were kids? And you found me under that bleacher and we just… we just  _ talked _ ?” Clint asked. “And that weekend you brought me to your ma’s house for the first time and threatened to stab me if I told anyone you liked baking and just… hell, we baked for  _ hours _ .”

“Yeah,” Jack answered.

“That same happiness I felt then? That’s how I feel now almost daily,” Clint answered. Jack started to smile a little and looked back down. “We have moments where we don’t like each other, or we say something we regret. But Jack- it’s like… finally finding that person who gets you.”

“I know that feeling,” Jack said, moving to grab pans and line them up carefully. “I ever tell you about how Brock and I met?” he asked.

“Nope. Kinda dicked me on that one,” Clint said, starting to set up his airbrushing equipment. “Are you starting the cake part?” he asked.

“Yeah, what step are you on?”

“I am going to be airbrushing the colors onto the fondant I think, give it a more shaded, smoother shine, and then hand paint the scales in. But I think it’s going to need more texture than the mermaid on top,” Clint said.

“After I get the cakes going I can help make shells and starfish,” Jack offered. “I can shape them if you can paint them.”

“Deal.” Clint hooked up his small machine, getting the color in line and starting slowly. “So… Brock?”

“We met while we were on vacation- when I was in Florida,” Jack said. “We were at the bar when we first met. And I couldn’t stand the idea of him.”

“I can totally see that. Brock is a lot,” Clint mused.

“You’re a lot,” Jack retorted in a playful manner. Clint flipped him off before moving his sheet a little closer and starting the slow and delicate process of airbrushing the fondant. “Anyway- he was already drunk when I met him and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I knew what your dad had put you through, I saw in other people too, and I wasn’t going to put up with it. So when he asked me for my number before I headed out I told him to go fuck a sea cucumber.”

Clint nearly dropped the gun out of his hand and he looked up. “You are lying.” Jack rose an eyebrow before he started dumping ingredients into a mixer. “... you seriously told him to screw an aquatic animal?”

“I told him he had a better shot with it than me,” Jack replied. “If you were there you would be like Brock is being right now,” he added and Clint frowned. “You’re softer on your approach but that doesn’t mean you aren’t just as fierce.” Clint shrugged, trying to brush off the compliment, or what felt like a compliment, and he continued to work.

“Anyway- somehow he found out which hotel I was staying in. Apologized. I called him a stalker and told him to go away.”

Clint laughed at that part. “Oh my God, now all I am going to picture is Brock in all black, sneaking around corners,” Clint said. The image was hilarious. Brock wasn’t exactly a big guy, but he had some build to him, and picturing him trying to be sneaky, hiding behind pillars and plants? It was a  _ sight _ .

Jack laughed too. “It wasn’t until the end of vacation that I found him again. He was helping some kid that got her kite stuck in a tree. She was crying and Brock was being very careful with her, and careful up in the tree. And I guess… I wanted to give it a shot.”

“Bet you are happy you did,” Clint commented.

“Clearly,” Jack answered. “The point is- at first he gave up a lot for our relationship. He stopped drinking, stopped hanging out with friends because they were, in his words, pushers. And it was a strain because obviously we wanted this to work but…” Jack stopped the mixer. “In the end we found our balance. Like you and Natasha are trying to do. Your situation is different and I think sometimes he’s scared because of that.” Jack didn’t turn around as he said the last part and Clint lowered his hands to the table. “You have no idea how much of a relief it was to him when you moved out here. He thought maybe finally he could stop worrying about you because he… well- you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint agreed. “Is that how you feel too?”

Jack shook his head and turned around, carrying the batter over, carefully pouring it into the pans. “No. I know I am always going to worry about you. Have since the day I met you, with that medical tape over your cheek, trying to hide that bruise. That’s just who I am, I’ve come to terms with it. Brock- it’s new territory for him.” Jack finished pouring and turned the pans gently, getting a smooth surface. “And I like Natasha. I don’t know the situation but I know she’s trying to do whatever she can to protect you. If that means I have to spend more time at the Tower, or going on walks with you and your new dog, then that’s what I’ll have to do.”

Clint smiled more at that. “Fuck, Jack. You are going to make me cry,” he said with a laugh. He set the airbrush gun down and rubbed his face. “If it helps… I was glad to hear it when you said you found your soulmate. I worried about you too.”

“I know you did,” Jack answered, pouring and smoothing out the other pan. “Guess that’s the good thing about us, huh? When we didn’t have anyone else really, we had each other. Now we just get to add people to our own family.”

Clint wiped his eyes. “I hate you right now.”

“No you don’t,” Jack said, laughing under his breath.

“Nah, I really don’t.” He abandoned his station and went to the sink, rewashing his hands before he got back to work. “No more sappy sentimental talk during work. I don’t want to have to wash my hands a million times today.”

“Fair point. So tell me about this dog.”

“His name is Lucky and… I’m pretty much in love with him,” Clint began. 

The day went smoothly after that. Kate and Gwen came in for their shift, both of them starting in the back to prepare what they needed to before Gwen took charge of the front when the store opened. Jack helped make molds and shapes, giving the fondant what texture he could while Clint worked on using a stencil to carefully create the scaled look he was going for with the gold paint.

“Clint?” Jack asked.

“Hm?”

“Stop humming Under The Sea from the Little Mermaid before I lock you in the freezer,” Jack requested politely.

“I can sing it if you prefer. I  _ almost _ know all the words. And what I don’t know, I’ll make up,” Clint offered.

“I actually might enjoy hearing that version,” Kate said.

“Don’t. Please don’t encourage him,” Jack told Kate.

“I wonder if I can fake accent it,” Clint said, thinking about it.

“Yes!” Kate cheered.

“No,” Jack said flatly.

“Kate, can you-”

“I will put you both in the freezer,” Jack threatened.

“Hey, who are we putting into the freezer and why?” Natasha asked, coming in from the back door. Clint looked over, surprised to see her, even more surprised when she was holding a drink carrier and a bag.

“Clint and Kate if they insist on singing or humming The Little Mermaid songs,” Jack answered. “Is that coffee?”

“It is. Did Clint tell you yet?” Natasha asked, holding the food hostage.

“He did.”

“And are you mad about it?” Natasha asked. Clint knew that slight pitch to her voice, that slight hesitation. He was willing to bet Kate didn’t catch it, and Jack  _ might  _ have, but he would never say anything. She was nervous, apprehensive of the answer.

“No. He’s happy and comfortable. Why would I care?” Jack asked before there was a look of something dawning on him “What did Brock do?”

“Wait, what?” Clint asked.

“Do I get to know what’s going on or should I help Gwen?”

“Gwen,” Jack and Clint both said.

“You all suck. One star out of five,” Kate said, annoyed although she took her apron off and headed to the front without too much of a fight.

“Did Brock call you or-”

“No. He swung by the Tower,” Natasha answered, her voice staying neutral. Clint felt his stomach tighten at the thought. He couldn’t help but feel like that could have only been a bad thing; however, Natasha sent something soft and soothing over the bond to calm his nerves. “We had a quick talk before he had to go to work. And as weird as it is that I feel like I am dating two people, I appreciate his protectiveness and respect him for speaking up.”

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Jack said.

Natasha set the drink carrier down and pulled a cup off for Jack, holding it out delicately. “Maybe, maybe not. I am not offended by it. I like to maintain a good relationship with Clint’s close friends. You both were there for him before I was. I’m sure he values that just as much as I do.”

Jack gave her a tight lipped smile before he accepted the coffee. “Whats in the bag?” he questioned.

“Two egg, sausage and cheese wraps for you two to split,” Natasha answered, picking up another coffee and strolling over. Clint smiled and took a coffee as he wrapped an arm around her, kissing her cheek. “I needed to go for a walk anyway.”

“How’s Lucky?”

“Dog-like,” Natasha answered. “Sam and Steve are taking care of him. They  _ enjoy _ it. I do not. Maybe when I don’t need to carry him I will like him a little more.”

“I can’t believe he convinced you to let him have a dog,” Jack said, leaning against the counter.

Natasha looked over at Jack with that soft, fond expression. “Clint has been willing to sacrifice a lot for me. I can learn to deal with dog hair and drool as long as we agree no dog in bed.” She looked back at Clint. “Right?”

“No promises.” Natasha’s look hardened a little. “What? When you are gone, I’ll have a cuddle buddy now. Bruce won’t let me cuddle him. And Tony gets grouchy if I try.”

Natasha’s face broke out into that rare smile, the one reserved only for private settings, and Clint felt himself melting into it. “I suppose they don’t. Okay, maybe. But you are doing the bedding from now on.”

“Worth it,” Clint replied, sipping his coffee.

“Now if you both excuse me, I need to go deliver the coffees to the ladies,” Natasha said, picking up the drink carrier. She pressed a kiss to Clint’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, lyubov’ moya.”

“See you tonight,” Clint replied, watching her go. He looked away once he heard her greet Kate and Gwen, smiling at the table as he sipped his coffee. “Told you. I’m happy,” Clint said after a moment, looking up at Jack.

Jack gave him a short lived, fond smile before he dug out their breakfast. “That’s all I can ask for,” he said. “Break in the office space?” he asked, waving the burritos in the air.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Clint agreed.

They watched a few videos on youtube, taking their time eating and drinking, decompressing. It felt good to give his fingers a break from molding and painting- he could imagine it felt good for Jack too. Clint kicked his feet up next to Jack’s, kicking them over just to screw with him, but Jack tapped his foot against Clint’s in return.

“Knock knock,” Natasha said, peeking her head in. Jack and Clint both looked over to her. “By the way, can I place an express order to the fire station?”

“Apology cake?” Jack asked.

“I’m not apologizing for anything Brock thinks I may have done or may be doing,” Natasha said. “More of a… Clint’s mine, he can suck it cake. So please make the cake in whatever flavor he dislikes-”

“Carrot cake,” Clint smirked.

“And have it delivered with a message that says he’s mine now, fuck off,” Natasha finished.

“That sounds oddly possessive,” Clint mused. “We have some leftover strawberry batter from this morning. Might not be a huge cake or anything. I might be slightly late coming home.”

“I’ll walk him back if you want,” Jack offered.

“I’ll let him decide that,” Natasha replied. “By the way, I am ordering pizza tonight.” She smiled and drummed her fingers against the frame before disappearing.

Clint lolled his head over to look at Jack. “Yeah yeah, I know,” Jack said, crumpling up his wrapper. “Don’t give me the sappy eyes. Let’s go finish the mermaid cake of absolute doom and torture so we can both leave early.”

“Did I even mention I love working with you?” Clint laughed, tossing his trash as well before they both washed their hands and got back to work. “Also, I totally think we should hang a television monitor up or something in the back room so we can listen to disney movies while we bake.”

“Clint… I will murder you and hide your body if you start with The Little Mermaid again,” Jack said with a sigh. But there was that small smile on his lips, that soft expression telling Clint it was all bark, no bite. “And now I have to make Brock a fuck off cake because your girlfriend is, strangely enough, screwing with my fiance.”

“Yeah… I think she secretly likes you two,” Clint commented breezily.

“That’s good- we secretly like her too.”

The rest of the day went smoothly. With a few last minute orders, Clint mostly worked alone to finish the cake in time, and just barely. Jack was filling other orders, moving around the kitchen, asking for help with smaller issues he was having when he needed to. It was a chaotic storm until after their rush and Kate made her way back to help pick up the slack.

By the time Jack and Clint could call it quits there was still some sunlight left, barely hanging on, oranges and purples threatening to take over the skies. Clint washed his station before he organized his tasks for the next day, Jack doing much the same. It was turning into a soothing, peaceful quiet that made Clint want to curl up in bed and take a nap.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jack offered.

“Nah- the Tower isn’t that far away from the subway stop,” Clint replied. “Hey- I am going to text Brock though. Make sure he is okay and everything. I just don’t like leaving loose ends open.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jack said as he picked up the cake Natasha requested. “Also, tell Natasha she doesn’t have to pay an ungodly amount for last minute cake orders.”

“I’ll try but she’ll tell me to shut up,” Clint laughed, grabbing his coat. “Kate! Gwen! You both good?” he asked them.

“We’re good, go home,” Gwen said, that big, bright smile on her face. Her hair was still dipped in pink at the ends of her blond hair. While Jack hated the look at first, Clint had absolutely loved it. “Tell Natasha thanks for the coffee.”

“When do I get to meet the dog?’ Kate asked.

“Give him maybe a month to heal and then you can meet him whenever,” Clint said. “I still need to check if he needs shots and all that. Make sure he really is a good dog. It was very much a spur of the moment thing.”

Kate waved her hand in the air at him as she received a text. “Fine, fine. But I’m meeting him and petting him.”

“Yep,” Clint said. “Alright, see you tomorrow Gwen. See ya later, Kate.”

The subway ride was uneventful, just like it was every other day of the year it seemed. Too many people packing into the cars, making their way around the city that Clint swore never really slept. But in a way, Clint never really minded- people watching was still one of his favorite things to do.

The Tower was still quiet, a lack of media and S.H.I.E.L.D. presence still being felt within the building. It made Clint’s hair stand on end going by dark rooms that were normally lit up. It made Clint wish that he could go back in time, change some things, warn someone so that everything felt  _ normal _ again.

_ “Mr. Barton, I was told to alert you that everyone is on the communal floor tonight. They have decided on an impromptu movie night if you would like to join,” _ JARVIS said the moment Clint was on the elevator.

“Okay. I should change first, and then I’ll make my way there,” Clint said.

Clint took his time when he got to his apartment. He grabbed something small to snack on as he started a load of laundry, ditching his work clothes and walking down the hall to the bedroom in his boxers. He grabbed fresh clothes out and finished his snack before he took a shower. 

The hardest part was probably sending Brock a text. Clint would have rather called him or seen him in person, but that wasn’t an option for the night. He just wanted to make sure they were on the same page, that everything was going to be okay between then, that this wasn’t an indefinite situation. So he sent him something longer than what was needed, probably rambly enough that Brock would roll his eyes at the message yet smile as he read it. At least that’s what Clint hoped would happen.

Clint switched the laundry over before he finally called it good enough. He grabbed a hoodie from the closet and went back into the elevator. Maybe the rest of the Tower felt creepy and cold, void of human activity, but the communal floor felt warm and lively. Tony, Steve, Sam, Bruce, and Natasha were all playing a card game, shouting at each other like they usually did about someone, usually Natasha or Steve, cheating. Thor watched on with a smile before he caught Clint’s eyes.

“Friend Clint,” he greeted, giving a nod of his head. Normally he was louder, and would slap Clint’s shoulder in greeting. It was a little more subdue, but still warm.

“Oh hey, you finally decided to show,” Sam commented. “Tell Natasha to stop being a filthy cheater.” Sam looked at Natasha with a smug, knowing look, and Natasha kept her face perfectly blank, not a tell in sight.

“Yeah, solid pass on that idea,” Clint replied.

“Hey, I made you new hearing aids. They are down in the lab. I’ll have Dum-E run them to your apartment,” Tony said, looking at the cards in his hand.

“Thanks. What are we playing?”

“Crazy eights,” Bruce answered.

“I… didn’t know you could cheat at that game,” Clint said slowly.

“Oh honey, you can cheat at any game if you try hard enough,” Natasha commented. Clint looked at Natasha, a little startled before he felt his face flushing.

Steve looked over. “Did… you just call him honey?” he asked, looking between Natasha and Clint.

Sam looked up from his cards. “Red- you getting more comfortable? Gaining a soul?” he asked. “Clint, you alright man? Do you notice anything different when you wake up in the mornings? Teeth marks? More tired than normal?”

“I know you are making ginger jokes, and I think you are only doing it because I am kicking your ass,” Natasha said, sounding more amused. “And… that’s a game boys,” she added, laying her last card down.

“... how?” Tony asked as Natasha grabbed the bills on the table.

“I play to win,” Natasha answered. She got up and looked at Clint. “Your face is red.”

“Thanks. Thank you,” Clint said dryly. “So… movie night?” he asked. “What are we watching?”

“Fifty Shades of Grey,” Tony answered.

“You were being serious?” Sam asked. “Man, why the hell are we watching that movie together?”

“Because I love watching my friends suffer and squirm,” Tony answered with a mischievous grin. “And I have a bet going on which of you is the most prude versus the least. Don’t ruin this for me guys.”

“We are not watching it if you are betting on us. We have rules against that,” Steve argued.

And that’s where everything both went downhill and uphill at the same time. Tony, Steve, and Sam argued about the movie choice, and how betting was rude, especially when it came to ranking their friends. Bruce chimed in a few times, Thor declared the movie an excellent choice after Bruce gave him a quick summary, and that only fueled the fire.

Despite the bickering at a loud level, Clint found himself smiling, some of the tension leaving him that he hadn’t realized had built up. Maybe things were slightly different right now- things were quieter, tenser, but they were still  _ okay _ . They could work past what had happened and come together. It gave him hope that soon things were slowly pick back up.

“So… whats your ranking here?” Clint asked Natasha, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

“Oh no. I am the one who is part of this bet,” Natasha answered with a sly smile.

“Evil, evil woman,” Clint commented with a laugh.

“Legolas!” Tony shouted. “Tell them it’s a good movie.”

“I’ve never seen it! How should I know?” Clint said incredulously. Tony gave him a ‘come on’ look. “What? I don’t watch all the chick flicks.”

“You watch  _ Hallmark _ movies,” Tony said blandly.

Clint rolled his eyes playfully. “Just for that, I appeal the movie choice and vote for Pirates of the Carribean.”

“That’s cheating!” Tony declared.

“All in favor?” Steve asked. Clint, Steve, Bruce, and Sam all raised their hands. “Four to three. Pirates it is.”

“Democracy. Gotta love it,” Clint said with a wink. Natasha pinched his side, making him squirm as the mock fighting broke out again. Clint looked down at her with a smile. “You’re already a winner for the night.”

“Conceited much?” Natasha asked playfully.

“Very much so.”

_ “Sir, the pizza has arrived.” _

“Alright, let’s get this party started,” Tony said.

It was entirely too much food but Clint knew it would all be gone by the next night. Between eating it fresh and everyone eating leftover, cold pizza, pizza never lasted long in the Tower. Nor did the ridiculous amounts of ice cream they kept on hand. If it wasn’t pizza and ice cream it was some other crazy combination. Sometimes it was a lot of bread and sweets that Clint stress baked when Natasha was gone. Sometimes it was food from Asgard- or sometimes Sam’s mother was in town and that’s when they  _ really _ got spoiled.

Two movies and half the team asleep later, Clint nudged Natasha before uncurling his legs and stretching them. Natasha glanced over from the television and nodded. Between the two of them, they tucked blankets around Tony, Sam, and Thor. Steve watched them with a soft smile and a small nod of his head. Bruce had long since left. Clint patted Steve’s shoulder on the way out.

The ride up to their floor wasn’t too long, and within minutes they were in their apartment, getting ready for bed. Clint was surprised he hadn’t fallen asleep during the movies with how much he was dragging his feet. He was thankful he had the forethought to shower before the movie.

Without a word, Clint ditched his hearing aids the moment he could and plopped down in bed, grabbing blankets and bundling himself up. Tomorrow was going to come too fast, and he had a  _ list _ of things he needed to get done before the shop even opened, let alone after. He didn’t bother trying to stay awake, making himself as cozy as he could as Natasha slipped into bed, going under the covers yet giving him space. She only had her lamp on as she picked up her book. Clint reached over and touched her leg lightly before tapping it, three times, his eyes never leaving her face. With a small smile, Natasha reached down and under the covers, tapping his hand three times in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** No aquatic species were harmed in the making of this chapter. 
> 
> (All based on an event that happened in one of my biology courses in college. I won't go into detail because people get squeamish but let me just tell you- that class gives me life to this day and it's been nearly 10yrs.)


	7. Chapter 7

Two months went by without much of a thought, although it felt like Clint was constantly busy. Between the holiday order rush, and buying gifts, Clint already had his work cut out of him. Buying gifts for his new family was a hard task. He knew what to get a few of them. Sam liked to try craft beers and Clint liked exploring enough to find a new brewery just a few hours away, dragging Natasha along with him for that weekend trip. Steve liked sweaters and socks, things to help stave off the cold. You could pretty much get Tony anything and his face would light up- it was a story Clint barely knew but when he had heard about it, it made his heart ache a little, especially when Tony was the most giving person in the Tower in his own ways. Thor also liked pretty much anything, especially if it were food. Bruce was always hard to buy for. And Natasha… don’t get him started.

It didn’t take long within those two months for Brock to come around, although Clint was annoyed that the “fuck off” cake Natasha had made for him actually worked. More times than not Jack and Brock came to the Tower to have a couple’s date night, and sometimes they would stay in and watch movies, which Brock definitely wasn’t complaining about, and sometimes they went out. When Natasha was off to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, or was out on an international mission they would come over, Brock spending most of the time with Lucky, fawning over the dog. Clint was pretty sure even Jack was melting into the idea of getting a dog because of how excited Brock was around Lucky.

In two months Lucky went from being a broken down dog to the perfect companion. It wasn’t without a lot of tears and heard work, but with each now bandage that came off, Lucky seemed to show a new side of himself, unwrapping more surprises at every turn. In a few weeks Clint knew he would be able to take him to the dog park, but he wanted to make sure everything was cared for first, cast off or not. Steve and Sam got the most enjoyment out of having Lucky around, aside from Clint of course. Even Natasha and Tony were warming up to their new Towermate. Not that Clint would ever say it, but he didn catch Natasha on the ground once, sitting by Lucky, stroking his head and cooing at him in Russian.

And then there were moments like this, rare but sprinkled in on occasion. Clint held a piping bag in one hand, working his way through decorating far too many cookies for a corporate holiday party order. December was always a busy month and he worked more hours at the bakery than he typically liked, but it was worth it at the end of the month when they had a two week shut down, hours limited with only a few orders taken.

_ “It’s weird watching you at work,”  _ Natasha commented.

Clint looked up at his tablet and smiled. “Yeah?” he asked. Natasha smiled back a tired smile. “You know you don’t have to watch me or anything, sweetheart. You should probably be catching some sleep before your flight.”

_ “I haven’t seen you in more than a week. I can stay awake a few more minutes,”  _ Natasha told him. She leaned away from her screen and fixed her hair. The sweatshirt she was wearing caught Clint’s eyes and he rested the ball of his hands on the table and watched her; it was his old hoodie from a few years ago, a little worn, the patches near his elbows thin and greying.  _ “You are thinking too hard, lyubov’ moya,” _ Natasha teased lightly. Clint felt his face heat up and he got back to work.  _ “Would this be a bad time to tell you that I might have stolen some other clothes as well?” _

“Probably not,” Clint laughed, glancing up at the screen. “You trying to kill me, Romanova?” he asked.

_ “Since when did you become brave enough to pull that one off?”  _ Natasha asked, laughing.

Clint wasn’t sure when he had decided calling her Natalia or Romanova became safe for him. Natasha didn’t prefer to tell anyone about herself before her SHIELD days, back before her name was Natasha, before when more often than not people only knew her as the Black Widow. It was an interesting change of pace, something more intimate sounding than what he had initially thought.

_ “You are thinking too hard again, darling,”  _ Natasha said, pulling a pillow up to her chest and hugging it.  _ “I don’t mind you calling me Natalia. Or-“ _

“I know,” Clint assured her. “There- first layer of icing down on all the snowmen and snowflakes. Now I just have to do the other crap.” Clint set the bag down and wiped his head on the back of his hand before he went to wash his hands.

_ “Crap.” _

“You know what I mean. Words are hard. I woke up late and didn’t get coffee,” Clint complained, trying to keep the whining out of his tone as much as possible. “By the way, last chance. Any gifts you want this year.” When Clint turned to look at Natasha she rolled her eyes at him. “Fine. You are at my mercy then.”

There was a sound of an alarm and Clint watched Natasha fumble with her phone. He hadn’t noticed the bags under her eyes, or the slight shake to her hand until that moment. Natasha tossd her phone to the side and reached up, stretching before she hugged the pillow to her chest.

“Nat, I love you. And I am so happy to see your face, but you need to go to sleep,” Clint said, leaning on the counter. “I know your flight gets in late tonight, and I might be asleep when you get home but hun- if something happens and you get hurt because you are wasting your time seeing me, I’ll probably never forgive myself. You need to take care of you.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed and even from the distance, Clint could almost feel the annoyance pool into their bond. “... what did I say?” he asked with a sigh.

“ _ I am not wasting my time seeing you,” _ Natasha said, not holding back the tone in her voice.  _ “You know I hate when you do that. Seeing you is important.” _

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Clint said defensively. “I meant…” Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure what a good comeback was. He sighed and set his chin down on his folded arms. “Nat, what I mean is, I miss you too. You know that. But… the world doesn’t slow down just because we need it to. So as much as I am loving this, I think I’d love it more knowing you were getting some rest after a mission well done.”

Natasha watched him, analyzing his words. Clint wasn’t a fan of that look, it always made his squirm a little. Instead, Natasha sighed and nodded.  _ “You have been spending too much time with Jack. I am fine. I’m somewhere safe with a few others until the flight. And as much as I grumble about it, I might actually like it when you get a little on the clingy side. Makes me feel like I am doing something right.” _

“You do a lot more right than what you know,” Clint promised, grabbing a rag and cleaning down his station so he could check his cookies. “Please. Go to sleep. I have a lot of things to do before I leave today. Next step is going to take a lot of concentration anyway.”

Natasha huffed, blowing her hair away from her face and Clint struggled not to smile too big at the action.  _ “Alright, fine. But there will be pay back, Barton. I won’t tell you when, or how, but there will be pay back.” _

“As long as it is in the form of a long morning in bed snuggling without my hearing aids in, I don’t think I will complain much.” Clint replied with a smile. Natasha’s sleepy smile almost verged on shy for a moment, and it melted Clint just a little bit more. “I love you. I’ll see you soon. Have a safe flight.”

Natasha nodded and she glanced down before she looked back up, a small, nervous smile on her lips.  _ “I’ll wake you,” _ she settled on before she turned her screen off.

Clint sighed and flipped his tablet over to playing music, plugging it in. The small, soft wave of affection settled into the bond and he couldn’t help the small, airy laugh before he shook his head. Words weren’t ever really going to be their thing, at least when it came to certain aspects of their relationship, and Clint was alright with that, as long as he had something to latch onto. If it was the warm feeling through the bond, then he could live with that.

The rest of the day seemed to go by quickly. Kate came in for some overtime, helping bake some of the cake orders while Clint finished up the cookies before he could start the decorating on the harder cakes. Occasionally he would glance up, check on Kate and Gwen as they worked on decorating the easier cakes. 

A few months back Clint had his doubts about Gwen- she seemed too hyper, too unfocused for what it took to do delicate work. But the longer Kate worked with her, the more Clint could see the finer details in Gwen’s work, and the absolute pride she took in it. At the end of the day, it was never Clint’s words of encouragement, or even Kate’s, that got Gwen to get that big, broad smile on her face- it was always Jack’s. Clint was pretty sure Jack was softer when it came to interacting with Gwen too. 

In the same timeframe, Clint got to watch Kate flourish as a leader, developing those around her, always striving to do better. He was pretty sure she could take on the world with anything she wanted to do with the mind set she had. It was good to note for the future, when maybe Jack would want to step back and Clint can steer him towards Kate. Between her and Gwen, with their skill both in baking and in web page designing, Clint was sure the bakery would keep falling into good hands.

“Alright, I think I am calling it quits for today,” Clint announced. “I’ve got all the hard pieces done with order number 119. I left some notes on how to finish the look,” he told Kate, leaning against his station. “You two think you can hold down the fort? Who is working in the front?”

“Billy and Teddy,” Gwen answered.

“We got it from here,” Kate said. “You’re off tomorrow?”

“Yep. But call me if you absolutely need me,” Clint said, grabbing his coat and pulling it on.

“And risk pissing your girlfriend off?” Gwen asked, looking up from her work. “She brings us iced coffee.”

Clint snorted and shoved a hat over his head. “Yeah, Nat is pretty good for that,” he admitted. “Alright. See you guys later then.”

Clint left out the back and took a sharp breath in. It was colder than he remembered from this morning, though he was going to blame it on his sleep deprived mind. He hadn’t had the best of dreams, memories from what felt like a lifetime ago creeping into his subconsciousness, mudding up his good memories and twisting them painfully. He didn’t have nightmares too much anymore, sleeping with Natasha seemed to help, but the previous night had been a rough one.

_ Now that I think about it… _ Natasha must have felt his nightmares on some level as he slept. Now it made sense why Natasha video called him at work, something she rarely did when others outside the circle were around. She was checking up on him. Clint shook his head but couldn’t erase the smile playing out on his face- he was going to have to remember to tease her about being just as concerned as Jack when he saw her next. 

Without anyone around to tell him no, Clint went a little crazy with the few hours of daylight he had left. He bought coffee, even took some back for the crew working at the bakery. Billy and Teddy were newer hires, coming to the team about four months ago. Clint loved how close they were, and he was  _ pretty _ sure they were dating secretly, not that him or Jack would actually care. After he dropped off the coffee to his coworkers, and bought himself another one because no one was around to complain about his caffeine addiction, Clint went shopping.

While he had done most of his shopping with Natasha, he couldn’t help but pick up the small things for his friends and family. He found an arrow necklace for Kate, who was learning how to shoot and she was  _ good _ . He found some stickers and pins for Gwen, things he knew would get stuck on her laptop, phone, her caps and backpack. He found a Captain America Santa hat, decorated with LED lights- he shouldn’t feed Tony’s addiction at poking fun at Steve but it was hilarious. And for Sam he found a nice pair of gloves because, well- maybe it was stupid, but Clint could only imagine how cold it got flying around doing his Avengers stuff and the gloves looked warm.

It wasn’t until the sun was setting and Clint was giving up that he stopped in front of a store window and smiled. It was a small boutique, and it looked so warm and inviting. The lighting wasn’t as harsh as some of the stores he had been in, the lights dimmed.

Clint found a rack and scanned it until he pulled out an oversized green sweater dress, the fabric less scratchy than he was expecting. He looked around and found a pair of thick, white socks that looked like they could almost reach her knees. All he could think of how cozy Natasha could look in the combo, sitting on the couch and sipping her tea. It would be one of those laid back days where they didn’t really do much of anything.

“May I help you?” an older lady asked.

“Hi, yeah. I’m just looking to buy these,” Clint said before he spotted some fingerless gloves, an ivory color. “Actually- these socks-“

It probably took longer than necessary to buy the items, but Clint didn’t mind. The older lady was sweet, asking him about his girlfriend, how long they had been together. And Clint kept getting distracted by little things to add to his purchase that he thought Natasha would like.

With a happy sigh, Clint walked outside and smiled, holding his treasures in his hands. He looked up and down the street before he went to what he thought would be the closest subway entrance. Now he just needed to grab dinner, or order it, and wrap everything tonight that way he was done with it.

_ Just a few more hours _ Clint thought as he left the shop. In a few hours Natasha would be back home, crawling in bed as carefully as she could so she didn’t wake him. He would be able to wake up and not dote on her, because she would probably kill him for it, but he could just be in the moment and that alone was enough. They could take Lucky for a walk together- it was supposed to be a little warmer after all so maybe they would go to the park for a little bit. And if he was really lucky maybe they could just crash on the couch, waking up just long enough to make it back to bed at the end of the day. He  _ needed _ a lazy day, damn it.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he wasn’t paying attention to exactly where he was, mostly going home on autopilot. He had taken this path so many times before, it was only a few blocks from Jack and Brock’s, so it wasn’t like he really needed to think about where he was going. However, he should have at least been aware that someone had spotted him and was catching up to his back.

“Hey bro.” Clint turned to see who had shouted before his heart dropped. He could recognize the accent, and certainly the terrible tracksuit. He recognized the face of one of the men that was there the day Clint rescued Lucky, and he cursed at himself for being so careless. “Where my dog, bro?”

This was one of those moments Clint wished he would remember to think before he explored. This area of town was a little less busy, a little more sketchy, and he really should have cleared long before the sun was setting. Additionally, he was pretty sure Natasha would kill him for running into these people again and admitting to it.  _ Maybe I can sneak this one under the radar, stay calm enough that the soulbond doesn’t let her pick up on anything other than general nervousness. _ Clint didn’t believe it himself, but he was going to at least  _ try _ ; if Natasha found out Clint was sure she would make him pay in the gym.

“You deaf, bro?” the man asked harshly.

“Actually, yeah,” Clint answered. If nothing else that gave him a moment to think about what he wanted to say. “Look man. You’re not getting the dog back. I’ll give you some money towards buying him off ya, but you’re never touching him again.”

“One grand,” he said.

“Yeah, fuck off with that idea,” Clint answered, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous amount thrown out. “That’s about half of what it cost me at the emergency vet because of you assholes.”

Clint saw him reach to his side, saw the grip of a gun, and he was starting to second guess calling the man in front of him an asshole. In fact, he was regretting a lot of things, maybe the top one being complaining about Natasha teaching him self-defense. Clint wondered if he could run for it and  _ not _ get shot.

“Hand over the money,” the man said, coming closer.

“Look man, I don’t  _ have _ a thousand dollars,” Clint stressed. “I literally just said I spent it on my dog.”

“Not your dog, br-”

It all happened so fast that it took Clint a moment to process what was actually happening. One moment he was standing there, waiting to get shot because that was just his luck, and the next someone had a firm hold of him, but yards away from where he was once standing. The man who had been holding the gun was closer to the wall than what Clint had remembered. But the thing that gave Clint pause was the hazy red mist.  _ Magic _ he could hear Natasha tell him, sending a chill down his spine.

“Clint Barton.” Clint looked over at the woman who was approaching before he looked at the man who was holding onto him, just letting go at that moment and walking over to the woman casually. “We need your help.”

Clint studied the woman in front of him, and he saw one thing he could recognize instantly- fear. It didn’t matter if she tried to tone it down, or was putting up her high guards for the world, Clint could still see it in her eyes, the slight pitch to her voice, the hesitance in coming close. It was all hiccups he was familiar with. But he noticed something else too- she was  _ young _ , maybe eighteen if she was lucky, but certainly younger than Kate, maybe even Gwen. And when Clint focused on the man next to her, equally as young it appeared, all Clint could see was a look he had seen himself in the mirror. A defiant look, masking as much of the fear as he could, and Clint hated that look on the guy.

None of that meant he should entertain the thought of being close to her, but after seeing her fling the other guy around like he weighed nothing, Clint wasn’t actually sure if he had a choice.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked.

The woman seemed to hesitate with her answer. “You do… but I think we could both benefit if you listen to what I have to say.”

There was one thing Clint learned a long time ago, back when he was a kid. He learned to always trust his gut instinct. All the times he hadn’t listened always led him to a disaster of a situation. But when he  _ did _ trust his gut and go with what it was telling him? Those were the times his life typically changed for the better. And his gut was telling him that maybe, just maybe, this woman was right.

“Alright… but not here,” Clint said carefully. “You’ll both have to come with me.”


	8. Chapter 8

Clint was sitting at one end of the table, his eyes on the woman, Wanda, that sat across the table from him. She kept her eyes focused on the table, her hands drumming softly against her mug of tea. Every once in a while little tendrils of red would radiate from her fingertips before she would force herself to take a deep breath and level back out. Sitting next to her was her brother, Pietro, who had his arms crossed, his feet kicked up on the table. Wanda glanced up at Clint and he tried to give her a reassuring smile, although they all knew that it was just for show. 

Clint didn’t know what else to do, or where to turn, so he went back to the Tower with them. Wanda nor Pietro were keen on that idea, but Clint wasn’t keen on being alone with them either, and he certainly didn’t like the idea of taking them to Brock and Jack’s, which did cross his mind. So he called Steve, warning him of what he was doing because he knew showing up without a word would have caused a fight, something no one in the Tower wanted, but he could feel the tension oozing off from everyone around.

The first hour was awkward. No one was impressed in the least. Tony so much as took one look at the situation and had walked away. Even Steve seemed to have considered his options. Sam was the only one who spoke up, siding with Clint that it was worth looking into. Clint still couldn’t figure out why Sam had agreed to it, but with Sam putting a gentle pressure on Steve, everyone had caved enough to bring her onto a floor below the high security clearance floors. Bruce was the one who offered to make tea, and Clint wasn’t sure who’s benefit that was for. Clint had only left the room for long enough to make coffee and get his first mug around.

Steve set a mug of coffee in front of Clint before he moved away. One thing about Wanda was clear- her telling signs of being nervous were clear as day. Whenever someone got too close to her, she would sit a little straighter in her seat, prepared for a fight although she looked like she was going to collapse at any minute, she looked so tired. Her fingers would leak more of her powers, which would put everyone on edge until everything could quiet back down. So far Pietro didn’t seem to have much of a tell; he kept on that same lazy, defiant smile that Clint could almost read like a book.

“So what’s the verdict?” Clint asked as he picked up his coffee.

“Maria is coming to talk with these two and take them to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters,” Steve answered. “She should be here in about two hours. Natasha is about to board her flight, and she should be back here in about five hours. In the meantime, I think it’s for the best that we put them down in one of Hulk’s containment floors.”

Clint wanted to argue that they were just kids, the twins fifteen years old. He wanted to say how they were still young enough to be vulnerable, enticed by the promises people more sinister could make, which was exactly what seemed to happen with these two. And who was better suited for that kind of recruitment strategy than Hydra? Clint only knew the basics of Hydra but he knew enough to know that they didn’t so easily let go of the people who worked for them under any circumstances.

Instead of arguing, Clint nodded. “Probably for the best,” he agreed before he looked back at the twins. “It’s not the most comfortable of rooms or anything, but it’s a safe space for now until S.H.I.E.L.D. can decide what to do.”

The twins didn’t seem to want to argue either, not that they had much of a choice. If they wanted the help, they had to accept the consequences that came with their previous actions. There was also one small detail that was weighing heavily on everyone’s mind no doubt- that this whole thing could be a trap and they were playing right to it. Clint had his doubts that was what was happening, but it was still there.

It seemed like everyone calmed down, Pietro and Wanda included, the moment the twins were in containment. Tony breathed what seemed to be a sigh of relief even. Steve clapped his hand on Clint’s shoulder as he passed, the two heading back to the elevator.

“Don’t stay down here too long,” Steve told Clint in passing.

Once they were gone, Clint sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t probably ideal but-”

“Stop worrying,” Pietro said, sounding more grumpy than friendly. “We have had worse in our lives than staying inside a room that was warm.”

Clint smiled a little at that and glanced at Wanda. “You have helped us get this far. It's better than what we could have hoped for. But you are risking a lot by doing this.”

“That’s the funny thing about these people,” Clint said. “Sure, they are superheroes, with their secrets and their stern faces and all of that. But once you get to know them and you’re in with them? They are the most loving and forgiving people you could ever want on your side,” he explained. “I came from a small town, don’t have a family that ever gave two shits about me, and a best friend that graduated a few years before I did. And then I moved to New York and I’ve found this family. And I guess I know that at the end of the day, we all just want to make this place a little kinder, any way we can.”

“Sounds like a load of bull,” Pietro said, his sister elbowing him.

“Yeah, probably does,” Clint agreed. “But I dunno. I’m running on very little sleep and a lot of emotions I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I don’t really have any reason to lie either. So I guess… we just wait and see what happens. It's the best we can do.”

“But you have a lot to lose,” Wanda insisted. “And you did this for us anyway.”

Clint shrugged his shoulders. “It's really not that big of a deal on my end.” It was almost like Wanda  _ knew _ Natasha and Brock, with the look she cast him. “... don’t look at me like that. I already have two people in my life that do that. I don’t need more.” He smiled. “I should go though. Don’t want Cap coming down here and dragging me up. He’s done it once and he gives a very convincing disappointed dad face.”

Clint wasn’t sure who was more surprised by that admission, Wanda or Pietro, both looking at a loss for words. Then Pietro laughed and shook his head, turning around and exploring the room. Clint winked at Wanda before he turned away. “I’ll hopefully be seeing you two around,” he called back to them as he left.

Despite his teasing, Clint was nervous. This  _ was _ a risk, one he wasn’t sure Steve, Tony, or anyone else had taken well. In a way, Clint was scared that maybe he had taken it a little too far, had disrespected their home, their trust, their everything. And he was pretty sure that-

_ You are thinking too hard lyubov’ moya _ . Clint wasn’t too sure if that had come across the bond or if he wished it would. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew Natasha wasn’t going to be thrilled about his outing that day. She would give him that disapproving look, might even go quiet on him again as she reassessed her position, and if he was lucky it wouldn’t turn into that awkward tension between them.

No amount of telling himself that it was going to be fine pushed him hard enough to seek anyone out. He knew the team was probably together, talking about it, waiting for him, but Clint wasn’t sure he was ready to face the music just yet. He figured he could give it a few hours before he found Bruce or Sam first- they were always the easiest of the group to handle. Even Thor would be easier than facing Tony or Steve. At least Sam and Bruce tended to take things by a more logical approach, leaving most of their emotions out of it. And Thor was just Lucky in supercharged, god form- all happy and loving and forgiving.

Clint found himself in the range, needing the distraction. He hesitated before he opened his locket and pulled out his bow first, running his hand over the limb and his fingers brushing against the cam and idler wheel, carefully touching the cable. Natasha had Tony make him this compound bow last year for the holiday. He had always owned his recurve, treating it like it was his baby, but he had his eyes on a compound for years, saving up slowly to buy one. Instead, he found the black and purple bow under the tree, Natasha refusing to admit she bought it, and Tony refusing to admit he made it. But Clint knew- he could tell by the smiles on their faces, the little lies covering the truth.

Clint took it out and grabbed his quiver and went to set up shop as far from the door as he could. “Hey JARVIS, play my Natasha hates it playlist,” he requested, attaching the quiver to his hip as he looked at the target downrange.

Natasha never really voiced how much she hated some of the music that Clint listened to, but he could tell by her minute facial cues she wasn’t a fan. However, the moment The Bouncing Souls  _ The Pizza Song _ played out over the speakers, Clint felt some of the tension ease away. Natasha wasn’t a fan of Clint’s 90’s punk music, not that she typically said anything, so Clint only really listened to it when she was away. He was happy that she would never really know how much some of these songs got him through the rough spots, kept him going until he could eventually find his way here. If she did know, she never spoke about it. 

Clint plucked out his first arrow, letting the shaft slip between his fingers carelessly until he got close to the fletching, where his fingers tightened on instinct. There was no reason to rush, he wasn’t actually trying to shoot to do anything more than find his center again, get the nerves out of his system. He twirled the arrow carefully between his fingers before he nocked it and repeated the same steps in his head that he always did, that comforting sensation of calm washing through him as he went through the motions. The moment the arrow embedded Clint felt goosebumps, his mind knowing exactly the sound it made, and playing it for him.

It was like a time warp, every time Clint shot. It seemed like he would blink and suddenly an hour would pass by. This time he hadn’t noticed the length of time until he heard someone clap and he turned, his arm pulled back, ready to launch although he aimed the arrow down towards the ground.

Sam smiled as he strolled forward. “Someone is having a night,” he commented. “What’s got you wound up?”

“Who said I’m wound up?” Clint asked, faking a smile before turning back and launch his arrow.

“No idea. Maybe the… how many did you even shoot?” Sam asked. Clint wasn’t sure of the answer himself. “Maria is here. Figured I’d come find you in case you wanted to go say hi or something.”

“Isn’t it mostly Avengers business?” Clint asked hesitantly.

Sam studied him for a moment before a soft noise escaped his lips. “Ah. You are in one of  _ those _ moods.” Clint rolled his eyes and looked down, detaching the quiver to his side. “Look man, none of us are mad at you. You did the right thing bringing those two back here.”

“You all hate it,” Clint pointed out, heading to his locker. He sat down in front of it and grabbed additional arrows, carefully putting them back into the quiver, his bow laid down at his side.

“We aren’t  _ comfortable _ , no. But that doesn’t mean you should feel like you did something wrong,” Sam replied. Clint barely noticed that Sam had crouched down near him, he was trying to focus on his task. “Their kids, Clint. They are going to need help. And if the intel they gave us is good, then it’s all a good thing in the end. They get out of a messy situation with Hydra, we know a few bases, a few plans and artifacts they are trying to find, and we can slow Hydra from doing more harm. It’s a win in my book. Steve’s too.”

Clint sighed and leaned back, looking at him. “You tell Natasha about this and I’m going to clip Redwings wings.” 

Sam snorted and sat down. “Yeah, like you’d do that,” he replied, reaching out and grabbing one of the arrows from the case. “You might not be one of the Avengers, but you’re one of us now, Clint. You’re gonna have to get used to the fact that we’re going to drag you along for as much as we can. Natasha knows it too. The more you know, the safer you can be. Anyway, I like your stupid jokes, how you can wrangle Tony and Steve in, and your moods where you bake way too much food. Reminds me of my ma.”

Clint laughed and took the arrow from Sam, sliding it into it’s place before he locked the extras up and he got up. “So… Maria Hill. I still think she hates me.”

“Pretty sure she hates all of us,” Sam replied as he stood him. “Her  _ and  _ Fury. We cause them way too much paperwork. However, none of us got Nat kidnapped before because she lost focus because of someone.”

Clint knew he was blushing and he gently whacked Sam with his bow. “That was  _ not _ my fault! We weren’t even together! I told her to stop checking on the soulbond during missions.”

“She still did it,” Sam sang.

“Yeah, and she also-”

Just when Clint felt like his spirits were picking up, that things were going to be easier for the night something rocked the building, the lights instantly turning off, only the emergency lights still on. Sam and Clint stilled for a moment, both looking at each other for a moment before there was a stronger, louder crash, too close for comfort.

“Go grab Lucky and get to a safe space, somewhere below floor seven,” Sam instructed quietly, reaching a hand out to touch Clint’s arm. “I’ll go with you. Come on.”

Clint nodded and grabbed his bow and quiver, his hand tightening around the grip. He attached the quiver belt before he bolted for the door, Sam right behind him, Before he could even reach the door there was another explosion and the door to the gym came flying in. Clint skirted off to the side and shielded his eyes for a moment before he looked up as a tall, silver sentinel came strolling in.


	9. Chapter 9

“Okay so that the hell is that?” Clint asked, backing up several steps as the metallic figure walked into the room.

“What does it look like?” Sam snapped, running to a locker and grabbing a gun from Natasha’s locker. “Just shoot at the thing.”

Clint grabbed an arrow and nocked it. “Okay but  _ where?  _ It’s metal!”

“Anywhere. Hell if I know! A joint!” Sam shouted as the figure lifted its hand, a glow of blue and white brightening the space, and it launched off a laser at Sam.

Clint launched his first arrow, aiming for where the laser was shooting out from so he could try to take it out. The sentinel paused before it turned towards Clint.

“Try to get out the door,” Sam instructed.

Clint ducked as the sentinel shot at him and he took off, trying to find a good opening. He grabbed another arrow and spun it in his hand before he passed the sentinel and lodged the arrow into the shoulder joint. If nothing else Clint hoped it would keep the thing busy for a minute or two.

“JARVIS, what is going on?” Sam asked as the two bolted for the staircase, the sound of metal clunking and whirling not terribly far behind then. “Shit, they took JARVIS offline.”

Clint went to turn the corner and pulled back before a metallic hand could grab him. “More of them!”

“Switch,” Sam said, moving to get around Clint, shooting. “Anything comes up those stairs, shoot it. We’ll keep going until we can get to a safe spot.”

Clint wasn’t in a position to argue. He grabbed another arrow and nocked it, waiting, holding his breath until he saw a glint of silver and he released.  _ Okay, this looks bad  _ he thought to himself. The loud ringing of gunfire, the charging of a laser blast, all of it was buzzing through his head, making it hard to focus. The pure terror from the situation didn’t help much either.

_ Remember that song your mom used to sing? _ This time he knew it was Natasha coming through the soulbond, trying to keep him calm. Clint frowned a little at the reference.  _ Over the mountain over the sea, back where my heart is longing to be- _

It was one of Clint’s favorites, a song he could barely remember his mother singing, the rare times his father wasn’t around and she  _ could _ sing it to him. The words had soothed him when he was young, still afraid of the storms the Midwest could kick up. It wasn’t that his mother had the best voice, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Clint tried to calmly think through what he needed to do. He only had a limited stock of arrows, which meant he needed to think smart. Taking out lasers didn’t help that the things could fly, which meant he needed to stop them. Everything had a weak point, you just had to find it.

_ Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love. I see the moon and the moon sees me- _

Clint moved up the stairs slowly with Sam, pushing ahead, making ground as slowly as they could. Clint glances at the wall and shoved Sam off to the exit door, pushing them both through and leaning against the door with him, taking a few deep breaths.

“Why are we stopping here?” Sam asked.

“The twins. We can’t just leave them,” Clint answered. “They might be able to help.”

Sam gave him a skeptical look before he laughed, light and airy, resigned. “Man, you goddamn blondes I live with. Always doing stupid shit. Steve isn’t going to like this.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Clint said. His shoulder knocked into Sam’s as a robot tried to get through. “I didn’t see a Hydra logo anywhere. Are they trying to not brag or something?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m here with you,” Sam said. “Lucky for me, your girl keeps extra ammo everywhere.”

“You have no idea,” Clint muttered. “How are we playing this?”

“I’ll try to hold the door, and then I’ll shoot,” Sam answered. “You get to the twins, and hopefully everything will work out.” Another big thump moved the door. “This is fun.”

“Yeah…. fun,” Clint agreed. “Don’t die. I’ll feel like shit if you die. Might cry even.”

This time it was an actual laugh that helped settle Clint. “Just hurry up.”

Clint nodded and waited until after the next this before he took off down the hallway, checking over his shoulder to Sam. He picked up the pace and nearly slipped by the room. He opened the door and grabbed an arrow, smacking it into the laser hand.

“Clinton!” Wanda exclaimed.

The song had changed in his head, a Russian lullaby he had heard once upon a time, and as much as it felt soothing, he felt desperation pulse through the bond. Clint had to send something back, let her know he was okay just scared.

Clint nearly reached the panel before the sentinel grabbed him and tried to yank him away. He was aware that Wanda said something but Clint was too focused on trying to get to the codes. He relaxed and the sentinel pushed him back, and back and-

Clint’s hand hit the control panel at the same time as his hip. Clint turned his head at the first hit of metal, willing himself not to take a moment until he could punch in the code. Just as his fingers hit the enter key he was tossed to the side. He rolled over a few times, his face scrunching up in pain before he put his hands flat on the ground and looked up as the metallic shell of a robot came closer, it’s hand lighting up.

Clint lowered his head but the blow never came. He was almost too scared to look up, his eyes closed and squeezed tight. He felt a rush of cold air before a hand was on his back. “You just going to lay there?”

“Trying to decide if I’m dead or something,” Clint answered honestly. A gunshot went off in the hall, followed by another. He finally pulled himself together and up, opening his eyes before he looked at the twins. Both of them looked worried, a little on edge, and Clint forced himself to stand up despite the aches and pains.

“What do we do?” Wanda asked.

“I guess we fight, right?” Clint asked, too scared to be hopeful for their positive answer.

Wanda and Pietro looked at each other. It was the silent communication, just like Jack and Brock seemed to have. A simple look, held for a few seconds, but they both seemed to come to a conclusion. Pietro got a smug smile on his face before he stretched.

“Guess we better help then. Can’t let the old man down,” he said before he was gone, just a rush of air left.

Clint stared at the spot Pietro had been standing in before he looked at Wanda and her nervous smile. “... I’m not  _ that _ old,” he complained. Something must have caught her attention because her mouth opened. Clint whipped around and saw the sentinel before he nocked an arrow and launched it before it could come much closer. “Feel old though,” he winced. He glanced back. “We can do this together. I won’t leave your side. But we should go help Sam.”

“Speedy kid already did,” Sam said. Clint was too relieved to see him and he jogged forward, reaching out and touching his shoulder. “I’m fine. We need to go upstairs, get word from Steve on what to do. How many of these things and where they are-”

Another blast rocked the building a little, stronger this time than before. The sound of metal whirling caught Clint’s attention and he nocked another arrow quickly before he saw the red suit, the gold accents, and he dropped his arms towards the ground, holding steady.

“Figured you could use some help reaching your equipment,” Tony commented to Sam, dropping it off.

“What are we working against?” Sam asked, grabbing his gear.

“A few more sentinels and Hydra agents downstairs,” Tony answered. “You should be in your apartment or-”

“We were too late for that,” Sam said before Clint could. “Him and Wanda will start heading down. Go back to your locker, grab more arrows. Stay  _ close _ .”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tony asked. “No offense Sabrina the Teenage Witch, but we don’t have a great track record with you, and I am pretty sure Natasha will kill us if something happens to him.”

“I’m a big boy and can make my own decisions too,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. He turned and looked at Wanda. She shifted, uncomfortable with the whole exchange. “If it helps… it’s okay to be scared. I’m terrified,” he told her before he started walking at a quick pace. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got things to do. Like eat pizza before I go to sleep.”

It wasn’t an easy task, but it was a hell of a lot easier when Wanda was there with him. What he missed, she could snatch up in that red hazy, which meant less waste when it came to his arrows. He could always pull them out from the disabled sentinels as they passed them.

Of course, that was until they reached floor four, where Hydra was starting to make it’s way past the small army of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. That was until a loud, screeching noise made Clint knock his hearing aids out, which only made the whole situation more confusing. Everything was easier until he noticed a look of horror on Wanda’s face at the things being set on fire, the sprinklers going off, and the people who may have at one time known pushed forward.

It sure was a lot easier before Wanda grew tired, taking more time to do whatever it was she was doing to move objects. Clint wasn’t sure how long they had pushed forward, advancing to try to get the situation out of control. When he was out of arrows, Clint’s main focus was grabbing his old ones and hoping he could reuse them.

Clint gritted his teeth when he got cornered by one Hydra agent, trying to keep him a bow’s length away and trying not to get pinned in a corner. He caught Wanda’s eyes. “Go grab someone,” he shouted to her.

“You are---one---people--- looking--,” the agent said, Clint barely catching the words as the man said them.. Clint’s eyebrows pulled down and he took a few paces to the side. The man smiled and leaned to his side, touching a button of something. “I---- Barton.”

_ Okay, so this looks worse _ Clint thought. He had thought maybe he could have taken down the agent near him, but the man had been holding back. He worked Clint harder, trying to work him into a tight spot. He tried to remember every trick in the book that Natasha had taught him, suggestions she had made. His mind even picked through the things Steve had told him, ways he could use his height to his advantage. But Clint wasn’t a fighter- he was still learning the basics even. So when push came to shove, Clint knew soon enough he would be outnumbered.

_ Don’t you dare give up _ .

Clint clenched his jaw against Natasha’s firm warning. He wasn’t  _ giving up _ . He was trying to be realistic.  _ Stop using the stupid bond against me, asshole _ . He wasn’t sure he could scream it loud enough for her to hear as he got hit in the jaw and he stumbled back, his back hitting a wall.  _ Shit. _ Clint dropped his bow and unhooked his quiver quickly before he tried to roll off to the side, but a knee pressed into his abdomen sudden;ly and Clint leaned forward from the impact.

“Not half ba--- a rookie. Too- are a---,” the man sneered. He grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged Clint to a corner, holding him up in it. Clint glanced at the button on the man’s shirt as he touched it. “I’m on the th-”

Clint whacked him good on the jaw, enough to make him stumble a step. It was a break and Clint took it, getting a few steps in before the man caught the back of his shirt and dragged him back. With another kick to the side, Clint fell to a knee and saw the man’s knee before it connected with his face and he was down.

Clint wasn’t sure what was being said but he knew it had to be something. What floor were they on even? Clint was pretty sure the third. He probably would have felt a little safer above the sixth. At least from the sixth someone could have reached him faster, maybe even before he was tossed into a van or whatever had dragged these people here.

Clint pushed up onto his forearms and took as deep of a breath he could before he felt a boot kick him in the ribs and he was down again. He rolled over, his face scrunched up in pain, his back arching and aching.  _ Everything _ was aching.

_ Just a little bit longer _ Natasha said, her voice clearer in the bond.

Clint wasn’t sure he had much longer. He opened his eyes and spotted boots, and then his bow. His fingers crept towards it before a boot was over his hand, applying a gradual pressure, though never enough to break anything. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and there weren't any good outcomes that would pop up. He saw more boots heading that way and he closed his eyes and swallowed back his frustration.

_ I’m not good enough _ he thought, hoping to keep it to himself but he was so emotionally charged he was sure he hadn’t. The boot left his hand and he was hauled up by a hand larger than he was expecting. He gasped from the pain and looked at the Hulk’s face, the big giant tucking Clint under one arm and swinging with his free one. The moves were jaunting, making absolute nothing feel better except the fact that  _ now _ he had a chance. After the small group of Hydra soldiers were taken out, Hulk carefully plucked Clint from his arm and cradled him, looking down with a confused, concerned expression.

“Hey buddy,” he muttered. “Want to take me to SR-5?” he asked. The Hulk didn’t seem any less confused. “Come on. Somewhere safe. Just need to get somewhere safe. Where is safe?” he asked. He wasn’t sure of his tone or his pitch, he couldn’t hear himself over his own racing heart or the pounding in his head.

There had to be some level of understanding because his big green friend turned and walked towards the stairs. Clint could see the huffing and puffing, the little ways Hulk let his anger out not with his fists but with small actions, ways to keep Clint safe. Clint reached up and patted his arm with enough force that he knew Hulk felt it before he let his hand slide down.

He just needed a minute to breath, to catch his breath before he could- he could-

There was no way he could push on. Everything hurt. Even laying in Hulk’s arms hurt. If he were smart he would find a spot to hide and keep it that way. Bunker down until someone found him and told him it was okay. He owed it to Natasha to do that at the very least.

Clint was surprised when Hulk stood outside of one of his containment rooms. He carefully bent down so Clint could punch in a code that would open the door. Hulk walked inside and smashed a button on the side wall and the door closed, locking them inside. It was relatively safe, so long as Hulk could keep himself from freaking out, which was, admittedly, Clint’s biggest concern now.

What he hadn’t counted on was Hulk taking a seat and holding Clint like he was a fragile, precious toy. He looked down at Clint, his mouth moving but Clint had no idea what he was saying, if it was anything. For all he knew it could be grunts and groans and whatever other noises Hulk made when he was frustrated but learning to be patient.

“It’s okay big guy,” Clint said, turning his head to press his nose against a green arm. “It’s going to be okay. Do you like lullabies?” he asked. “I suck at singing, and I can’t hear worth a damn but maybe it will keep up both calm.”

Clint wasn’t sure at first what Hulk’s reaction would be to the off-pitch rendition of the song Natasha had sang for him earlier. He closed his eyes, wiggled until he was comfortable in Hulk’s arms, and he sang that song his mother would sing to him to soothe away his fears. He knew some of the words were wrong, but it didn’t seem to matter too much.

He was more surprised when the Hulk carefully set him down, patted his head, then nudged him as if to continue. Clint smiled and leaned against the giant, singing a different song he could remember, until slowly he felt the shift starting to take place. He had seen it happen before, but he had never really been close enough to actually experience it. Clint didn’t stop the song until green skin turned a paler pink and he smiled, closing his eyes, trying to give Bruce some privacy as the man got up in search of clothing.

Bruce sat back down and tapped on Clint’s thigh. Clint opened his eyes and gave him a weak smile.  _ You okay _ Bruce asked.

Clint teetered his hand. He wanted to say he felt like he had the crap kicked out of him, because that’s how he felt. But he wasn’t sure exactly how much sign language Bruce knew, so he kept it simple.  _ Hurt but okay. You okay? _ Bruce nodded.

Bruce was the one who looked at the door first and Clint followed his gaze before they were both on their feet in seconds. Clint wasn’t sure who this person, thing,  _ android? _ was that had entered the room so calmly using the code to get in. The figure stepped closer, wearing a green unitard, which only seemed to accent their red face.

More incredibly, the android started to talk, and as it talked, it signed.  _ I have been sent to check on you. _ Clint stared at the android before he glanced at Bruce, reading his lips to get the bare basics before he looked at the android again.  _ I am Jarvis. Tony Stark sent me. _

Clint’s eyes widened and he looked at Bruce, who looked curious. Clint slapped his hand against Bruce’s arm to get his attention.  _ What is happening _ he asked. Bruce could only shake his head a little before he nudged Clint, pointing back to the android,  _ Jarvis _ .

_ I will go. Report back. Stay safe. _

Just as quickly as he entered he was gone and Clint was stuck standing there, staring, confused. He looked back at Bruce, and he  _ knew _ the guy had some inclination on what was happening, he looked too thoughtful, almost gleeful, not to know anything.

Clint found a spot to sit, wrapping an arm around his midriff and he closed his eyes.  _ Safe _ he thought as strongly as he could, hoping Natasha would get the message. For the moment he was safe, and he was pretty sure in general he was safe. It felt like a turning point, like maybe they had a handle on what was happening, and that maybe he could be free to just take a load off until he was told he could leave the safe room with Bruce.


	10. Chapter 10

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed again until a hand rested on his shoulder, followed by another. Clint opened his eyes, unsure when he had fallen asleep. Steve gave him a nervous smile before he very slowly, carefully asked if Clint was okay. Clint nodded and with Steve’s help made it to his feet. Tony was over with Bruce, checking on him.

Steve held out a pair of hearing aids which Clint gratefully accepted. Hearing all the alarms at full volume was a little jolting and Clint winced against the sudden, loud assault and he gave himself a moment to adjust to it before he looked at Steve.

“Wanda? Pietro?”

“They are fine. They’re safe,” Steve assured him. “We all are.”

Clint nodded and threw his arms around Steve, holding him tightly for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much energy and emotions he had bottled up until finally he was able to let them burst through.

“Hey- it’s alright,” Steve said, sounding unsure of the situation.

“Shut up and let me cry about it,” Clint laughed through the tears, squeezing his eyes shut as he smiled.

“Alright, who said what to Merida to make him cry?” Tony asked. “What did you do, Cap?”

“You’re next if you keep it up,” Clint warned Tony. “Oh  _ shit.  _ Lucky!” Clint let go of Steve and was on the move, only to be jerked back.

“Calm down. Sam is going to grab him,” Steve said calmly. “Figured you’d be worried. I told him we would meet him outside if you are up for it.”

“Yeah. Yes. Please,” Clint babbled.

Steve just gave him a smile before he titled his head. Clint led the way, thankful that the elevator was back up and running. He wondered how long he had been asleep for, or what time it was, or where Natasha was. He wondered if Sam was okay, if Thor had made it down to help, and he had a million questions about the android who called theirself Jarvis. Every question was running through his head as he got outside and looked around.

If he thought the inside of the building was busy, the outside was equally so. He wasn’t sure he had seen this many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and other federal agents before on Avengers ground. There were firemen and Clint’s mind raced until he landed on Brock having the day off- at least that was one less person he was going to see that would ask him a million questions.

“Steve Rogers, sir,” someone called out.

Steve glanced at Clint. “Don’t wander too far,” he said before he jogged over to what appeared to be a reporter.

_ They are still worried people are around _ Clint thought, a shiver running through him at the thought. His mind leapt to the possibilities, none of which had pleasant outcomes, and he looked through the crowds of people, trying to spot Sam and Lucky. He needed to keep his head out of the land of possibilities and into the here and now.

_ Where are you _ Natasha asked through the bond and Clint hadn’t caught the familiar thrill on the bond, that anxious anticipation Natasha would have when she came home from missions. Clint perked up and was now scanning over heads and crowds to try to spot red hair. He turned around slowly, eyes passing up everything until finally he saw it- red hair pulled up, head turning to try to spot him as well.

“Nat!” Clint called, jogging over to where she was.

Natasha looked up and spotted him, squeezing her way past a few people before she ran, meeting him damn close to half way. She reached up and held his face, her hands slipping down as her eyes traveled down him.

“I’m fine,” Clint said several times in a row. He reached up and took her hands. “Hey, I’m okay,” he promised.

Natasha shook her head, holding back her tears as she let his hands go in favor of hugging him tightly. Clint wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. It was a mess of emotions, positive and negative, and Clint was having a good time keeping up with exactly how Natasha felt in that moment. But he knew how he felt- relieved.

Natasha was the one who broke the hug in favor of slapping his arm,  _ hard _ . Clint winced and reached up with his free hand. “I tell you to be safe. I tell you to keep your head down.  _ So you took on sentinels? _ ” she asked. For a brief moment Clint was pretty sure she was mad but then he saw it- that ghost of a smile peeking out, her lips trying to stay still but moving without her consent.

“Got bored. It’s your fault. You left me alone again,” Clint answered. “I… might have brought in some human strays as well.”

“First dog strays, then human strays, then going around acting like an Avenger,” Natasha listed. She finally broke down and smiled before her hands found his face again, her thumbs lightly rubbing over the bruises that had formed. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked softly.

“I was kinda hoping for a kiss or something,” Clint answered, two of his fingers tucking into her pockets, holding her at bay.

Natasha nodded and pushed up on her toes, kissing him before he could meet her more on her level. That feeling of a goodbye kiss long gone it seemed, replaced with something more sweet, more trusting, loving, comfortable. For the first time in months, Clint felt like they were truly okay again, back on the same page, same footing.

“Now  _ that _ is a way to come out to the media that you two are officially dating,” Sam said, interrupting the moment. Clint looked over and nearly squealed out of delight.

“Lucky!” Clint shouted, nearly knocking Natasha over so he could kneel down and bury his face into Lucky’s fur. “Hi boy. Best dog. I am so sorry I didn’t come up and see you first thing! I am the worst doggie daddy in the world. I will make it up to you though. All the pizza, and belly rubs, and cuddling in bed when momma Nat leaves the room.”

“I am going to have to dispose of the dog,” Natasha said. “Stealing my attention.”

Clint looked up and smiled at her before he looked at Sam. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, anytime man,” Sam said. “I’m going to go save Steve now. I’d suggest trying to head inside until we come up with a plan.”

Natasha nodded, pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek before he ran along. “You need some sleep, lyubov’ moya. Let’s go inside.”

Clint knew he couldn’t argue. He had a feeling that he knew what he looked like, and it was a hot mess. He stood up with a bit of groaning, Natasha giving him a sympathetic look. “I dunno, babe. I think those things might have something on you. I don’t feel like  _ this _ after we train.”

“Oh, I can certainly work on that,” Natasha assured him. 

Natasha wrapped an arm around his and steered him to the inside of the building. She paused at the doorway, looking over every detail. He hadn’t noticed how tired she looked, and he wasn’t sure it was from the lack of sleep. The last two or so hours had just been one nightmare after another, with neither of them close to each other to help.

With a sigh, Natasha let go of his arm and moved to his side, crouching in front of Lucky. “Don’t get used to this, mutt,” she told Lucky with that fond tone before she moved to pick him up. Clint could only stare at her as if she had grown two more heads. “There is glass. The last thing I want to deal with tonight is bloody paw prints all over and you fussing even more. I have a plan and you have absolutely no say in the matter.”

Clint rose an eyebrow, challenging the notion wordlessly. He had a good idea on what that plan was, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be a little shit about it. Natasha rose hers back at him, leaving the words hang between them a bit. They made their way to the elevator, leaning on each other once they were inside and the door was closed. Before Clint knew it, they were well on their way to their apartment, and Natasha was setting Lucky down after ensuring there wasn’t any broken glass.

“Bathroom. Strip,” Natasha called to Clint as she walked to the side closet. “Lucky, food?” Lucky trotted after Natasha, tail going a mile a minute.

“I love you, but I’m not sure physical activity is in the cards,” Clint called back to her, half joking. He heard, no,  _ felt _ , Natasha mumbling something across the soulbond in Russian. “I heard that!” he smiled as he worked his way down the hallway. He stopped in their room to grab clothes before he caught sight of their paintings, skewed from the impact, barely hanging on but still there. He smiled at it before he headed into the bathroom.

The bruises were already blooming everywhere it seemed as Clint shrugged off his shirt. He winced at the look of it, knowing full well that tomorrow was not going to be a great day. His fingers lightly skimmed over his ribs where he had been kicked, and he was  _ not _ going to look in the mirror too long as his face again. He had caught a glimpse of dried blood and that was enough for the moment. Clint fumbled for a moment with his jeans before he was able to step out of them, bracing himself with the sink before he caught sight of Natasha’s feet and he looked up.

“I swear I’m okay,” Clint said again.

Natasha didn’t look convinced. She shook her head and walked over, her fingers running lightly over his shoulders and to his neck before she pulled him down for a kiss, light and hesitant before she pressed her forehead against his. Clint took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sit down,” Natasha said gently and Clint wasn’t one to argue. He sat down on the toilet and watched as Natasha got the first aid kit out, setting it down before she got to work. Clint hissed at the first contact and reached out, touching her thighs. “I know, lyubov’ moya,” she said soothingly. “But I think you’d prefer these not to get infected.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint said as she worked carefully to clean the cuts.

“What are you sorry for?” Natasha asked, glancing at his eyes briefly before she went back to wound care.

“I should have… hell, I don’t know,” Clint answered. “I should have found a safe room and stayed put. I should have came up here and stayed with Lucky until things passed. But it was all happening too fast and Sam was alone with me for the first bit, and all he had was one of your guns. And all I had was my bow. And I know I probably scared the hell out of you and-”

“Clint. Breathe,” Natasha instructed, so he did. He took a few breaths. “You can’t apologize for things outside of your control, sweetheart. You were only doing what you thought you could and should.”

“Hydra knows about us,” Clint added weakly.

“I know,” Natasha replied. “Which… changes things.” Clint’s fingers stilled on Natasha’s thighs. “It’s nothing bad, Clint. It doesn’t change  _ us _ . If anything, you should be happier. No more trying to hide this because the people I didn’t want to know already know. That allows us to be more… open. It also means you are more at risk.”

Clint was quiet for a moment before his fingers started to move again, taking in the feel of Natasha’s fabric. “I can’t stop working. And I can’t stop-”

“No, you can’t,” Natasha agreed. “Just means you need to take training a little more seriously now. It means that you need to carry a weapon of some sort on you, just in case. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the things you love.” Natasha bent down, her nose brushing against the tip of his. “We did it all wrong, sweetheart. But I think I know what we need to do now. But it can wait a few days.”

Clint searched her face, confused. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

“It’s okay. You are tired. You’re not going to catch on,” Natasha promised before she kissed his forehead. “For tonight… let’s just get our pajamas on and crawl into bed. Lucky’s allowed for tonight even. I think my boys had a rough day and both deserve some special cuddle time.”

Natasha walked away and Clint sat there for a few moments longer. He carefully touched their soulbond, not sure where they stood. But there was nothing negative there- there was worry and a nervous feeling, but overwhelmingly there was a feeling of affection, which only grew when Natasha realized Clint had reached out. It was a gentle reassurance, light as a breeze and more than what Clint expected.

He got dressed at a slower pace and brushed his teeth before he walked back into their bedroom. Natasha was fixing the paintings above the bed, Lucky already laying down at the foot, curled up on top of one of Clint’s blankets. Clint got a few lazy tail wags before he pet Lucky.

“Need help?” Clint offered

“No,” Natasha replied easily before she plopped down on the bed, startling Lucky before he hand landed on his back and she shushed him. “I do have a question.”

“Yes. I love you,” Clint answered as he climbed under the covers that were still his and not his dogs.

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully before she moved, laying on her stomach, her arms folding under her head as she watched him. “Are you okay with this?” she asked.

“This?”

“Everything,” Natasha replied before she sighed, turning her head into her arms and talking though Clint couldn’t hear a lick of it. She sighed again and turned her head out. “Life isn’t going to get easier. People are still going to come for you, for us.”

“Life’s kinda what you make of it, Nat,” Clint replied, trying to find a comfortable spot. “As long as we work this out together I think we’ll both be fine. It’s just going to take a lot.”

“I could… I could retire.”

Clint gave her a skeptical look. “No you can’t. You would be miserable which means I will be miserable. No one is retiring. No one is changing for the worst. We just have to… figure it out.” Clint finally found that sweet spot where everything  _ almost _ felt better and he melted. “Oh sweet baby Jesus, I hated today.”

Natasha army crawled closer and set her chin on his bicep. Clint turned his head and smiled at her. “Anything you want to admit to before I watch the footage?” she asked.

“Jarvis is an android thing now,” Clint said.

Natasha was silent for a moment. “Why are you admitting to  _ that _ ? What did you do?”

“No. Nothing. I’m just really confused by it still,” Clint answered. “Like one moment I am having a conversation with the ceiling and the next I’m talking to an android that  _ sounds _ like the ceiling. And like- I am pretty sure there are sci-fi books that tell us  _ not _ to do this. Like this is how the robots take over.”

Natasha laughed and dug her chin into his arm as he head dipped before she looked back up. “If anyone is going to be treated fairly by the robotic overlords it’s going to be you. You asked Jarvis  _ please _ sometimes.”

“But Jarvis might not be the overlord,” Clint pointed out.

“Stark created Jarvis. Of course Jarvis is going to be the overlord,” Natasha said in a matter to fact manner.

Clint thought about it before he groaned. “Oh God. Tony fucking Stark starts the robotic rebellion.” They both laughed until something in his ribs twinged and him and he groaned, a hand coming up to rest on his abdomen. “Oh shit.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Natasha said sympathetically, kissing his cheek. “I’m going to grab you something to knock the pain down a bit. You stay right here.” She got out of bed and went back to the bathroom, only to reappear a few minutes later with a pill and a small glass of water. “This will knock you out.”

“Drugging me,’ Clint murmured before he sat up, taking the glass and the pill, handing the glass back.

“Only because I love you,” Natasha promised, kissing his forehead. “I’m going to turn the television on, okay? Take your hearing aids out.”

“No baking shows,” Clint warned.

“I won’t even tease you with them tonight,” Natasha assured him.

Clint took his hearing aids out, getting them into the charging pod after a few misfires, and he laid back down, moving until he found that spot again. He used a spare blanket to tuck just right to help keep the pressure off the part that didn’t feel so good and so that he could still almost lay on his side like he normally would.

Natasha came back and was taking her time, checking on Lucky before he climbed into bed and turned the television on. She smiled as she settled on Anastasia and she got comfortable. Clint snorted at the choice and Natasha reached across, booping his nose before covering his eyes with her hand. Clint teased her about this choice anytime she went for the movie, but secretly they both loved this movie. Clint grabbed her hand, holding it down next to him so he could watch as much of the movie as he could.

He lasted about fifteen minutes before it was lights out.


	11. Chapter 11

Clint swore and grabbed the oven, opening it and pulling out the baking sheet, setting it on the stovetop. He glared down at the slightly overcooked treats, the second batch he had ruined that day. “How?” he asked it. “You are  _ simple _ . How am I screwing you up?”

A hand touched his back and he jumped a mile, and no, he was  _ not  _ going to admit to the noise that had Natasha smiling as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “The hell are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to make macaroons,” Clint answered. “Easiest recipe ever and I keep messin’ them up.” He looked back at the tray of his failed attempt and pouted. “What kinda baker can’t make simple macaroons?”

“Okay, but why?” Natasha asked tiredly.

“Because tomorrow is Wanda and Peitro’s birthdays and I… uh…” Clint said as Natasha started to smile more. He smiled a little more on the apologetic side. “I guess I know when we were growing up our birthdays sucked. And I’m sure theirs haven’t been great lately. But they are still kids so… I kinda wanna give them this win.”

Natasha nodded before she pulled herself up on the counter. “Tea please.” Clint nodded and started the process of making her tea. “I’ll never understand it.”

“Understand what?” Clint asked.

“What I ever did to deserve you,” Natasha answered and Clint felt his cheeks heat up and he kept his face turned away from her. “I still would enjoy killing them… just a little.”

“How can you kill someone a little?” Clint asked, confused as he turned to look at Natasha.

“I don’t know. Smaller stabs?” Natasha questioned.

“Sounds slow and painful,” Clint pointed out as he reached a hand out. Thirty seconds later, a mug handle was touching his hand. “Thank you.”

“Are you… stressed because of the wedding?” Natasha asked.  _ Shit, I kinda forgot _ Clint thought to himself, and Natasha’s quirky smile made him realize she might have picked up on it. “Guess not then.”

“I just want to make them feel like someone has their back,” Clint said as Natasha hopped down, walking over before she leaned against him, her face pressed against his back. “Are you ready for the day?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Not until I’ve had my tea I’m not,” Natasha answered.

“Yeah yeah, the water is almost heated. I lost track of time,” Clint said before he turned, his hands braced against the counter behind them as Natasha leaned up, pressed against him for a kiss. “You’re on Brock duty. No getting him drunk before the ceremony.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Natasha asked in a huff. “I’m the best man, Clint. If he says lets get shitfaced and go to a strip club before the wedding I’m absolutely going to do it. I take my jobs seriously.”

Clint tipped his head back and laughed. “You’re the worst.”

“No. The best. That’s why Brock said I get to do best man duties,” Natasha pointed out. She stepped to the side and started to make her tea, Clint watching her as she worked. “We’re switching if he becomes too much. You handle that kind of stress better. If he asks if he can run away and start a new life in Mexico with the name Brocko Rumchata, I’m letting him.”

“Brocko Rumchata?” Clint asked. Natasha shrugged and turned, finding counterspace near Clint and leaning against it. “Now I’m trying to decide if you both are plotting against me. What is your fake name going to be?”

“I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you,” Natasha said before she took her first sip.

“Well, we can’t have that. You might actually miss me,” Clint mused.

“Maybe just a little,” Natasha agreed. “We need to leave in an hour, lyubov’ moya. You need to clean your mess and take a shower. I will not be the one explaining why my soulmate smells like burnt coconut.”

“Yeah, alright. Do you want breakfast?” Clint asked, starting to clean up the mess he had made in the kitchen. 

“I think I will just have some of the leftover bread and butter it,” Natasha answered. “I need to fit into my dress.” Clint turned around and exaggerated an eye roll. “I think you will like this dress.”

“Is it purple?”

“No.”

“Then it’s just a dress,” Clint said teasingly. “I think I like you in whatever you decide to wear.”

An hour was never enough time for either of them. It was always a mix of shooting the shit, lazy kisses, and rushing to get through the shower. Today’s shower was occupied by both of them because they were too focused on babying Lucky before Steve got there to take him for the day. Thankfully, the shower was just big enough for the both of them, not that they weren’t bumping into each other, laughing and sharing kisses as they went.

“I am telling you, we need to build in an extra half hour,” Clint said in a rushed manner, taking long strides to get out to their car and get their bagged clothing around.

“But then we will  _ know _ ,” Natasha insisted, putting her hair products and makeup into the backseat.

“Yeah but then you won’t hear Brock teasing you about wearing my sweatpants… again,” Clint said. He leaned over and kissed her stocking cap covered forehead.

The venue for the wedding wasn’t too far away, all things considered. Clint looked at the industrial brick building that had been turned into a wedding venue some years ago. He had seen the photos online and the place screamed Brock and Jack. There wasn’t much fuss to it, the decorations kept simple and to their taste.

The moment they got there Clint’s phone rang. Clint fumbled with it as he parked before clicking on the bluetooth. “Hey Jack.”

_ “Can you check on Brock when you get here? He seems to be… nervous.” _

“Of course he is nervous, it’s his wedding day,” Clint answered. “Yeah, we just pulled in. I was going to help Natasha with her things first, but I’ll check on Brock before I come to your room.”

_ “Thank you,” _ Jack said before he hung up.

“Wow, and I thought you were the dramatic one,” Natasha teased, getting out of the car.

“Promise me something,” Clint said.

“Anything, darling.”

Clint looked over the roof of the car at Natasha. “If we do this? Something small, alright? Small and intimate like they are having. No freaking out.”

“I can uphold my end of the deal, can you?”

Clint shrugged. “Probably not.”

Once Natasha was set up in a spare room, Clint was pointed out where Brock was and he headed there first. He tapped on the door and slipped in. Brock was standing in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie. The attire was fairly standard- black slacks, white button down and a black tie, black suspenders and shoes to tie up the look. It was easy and effortless, but the way it fit Brock’s figure was better than an actual tux would look like on him.

“Is there grounds for divorce if a fella makes you wear a tie?” Brock asked.

“Not really, it’s a wedding,” Clint answered, strolling across the room. “Drop your hands before I have to iron it out.” Brock complied and turned. Clint started to tie it for him. “Whats on your mind?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Brock.”

Brock pulled a face for a moment. “What if this isn’t what Jack actually wanted and-”

“Let me explain this to you in kindergarten lingo,” Clint said, sliding the tie up and into place, smoothing it out. “Jack loves you. You could have gotten married in Clary’s Bar and the day would have been perfect for him. He wants  _ you _ , everything else is just a bonus.” Clint started working on Brock’s hair, trying to make the one awkward piece work for them. “Even if something goes wrong, which it won’t, it’s going to be overshadowed because you guys are going to be so excited that you are here and doing this.”

Clint stepped back and smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Brock nodded and looked in the mirror, turning before he nodded. “So… that being said… gonna wear your sexy old man specs?” Clint asked casually.

“Fuck off. No I ain’t wearin’ em,” Brock grumbled.

“I need to go check on Jack. You going to be okay until Natasha gets here?” Clint asked.

Brock sighed but nodded. “It’s stupid, you know?” he asked. “We’ve been livin’ together for so long now. We’re  _ soulmates _ for Christ sake. And yet-” His lifted his arms and let them flop down.

“Still a big day, whether you’ve known each other for a year or ten years,” Clint explained. “It’s going to be fine, man.”

“Yeah. Fine,” Brock repeated. “Alright, go check on Jack. I don’t need you around here infecting me with your hopeless romantic looks and spiels,” he said, waving Clint off. “Once Red is in here, we’ll have a drink and everything will be great.”

“Uh huh. You great drunk before the ceremony and I’ll kill you myself,” Clint threatened, mostly joking. Brock rolled his eyes and flipped Clint off.

Clint was gone in a flash, carrying his outfit down to Jack’s room and knocking before he walked in. Unlike Brock, Jack was wearing a vest with his slacks and button down, the tie tucked in. He glanced over and gave Clint a grateful smile before he stood up.

“Thank you,” Jack said.

“Bond feeling a little less high energy?” Clint asked, hanging his bag up and unzipping it.

“Yes.”

“So… I got something for you, and I don’t need you freaking out and Brock coming down here,” Clint said. He turned and looked at Jack before he grabbed a box out of the bottom of his bag and walked over. “Here.” Jack frowned and opened it before his eyes widened. “I… kinda asked Stark for a favor. He found someone that could make it work again.”

Jack’s father had passed away while they were in high school, and Jack held onto the broken watch ever since. So when Clint was trying to figure out what to get him as a wedding gift, he asked Brock for some help snatching the watch away. While then meant asking Tony for some help in getting it back in working condition.

Jack put the watch on and turned his wrist over, checking it. “I can’t believe you did this. What the hell did it cost you?” he asked.

“Eh, a day in the garage with Tony, working on a car,” Clint answered. “It wasn’t bad, I promise. And most of the watch is still original, just a few of the inner gears had to be replaced. So I guess-” Jack pulled Clint into a tight, warm embrace and Clint smiled, wrapping his arms around him. “Happy wedding day, man.”

“Thank you.” Jack stepped back and rubbed his face. “My mother is going to lose it.”

“She’s going to lose it the moment you both are declared husbands,” Clint pointed out. “Man, I miss her. I can’t wait to see her.”

The time ticked by slowly. Clint changed into his outfit, fiddling with the suspenders a bit before he tied his tie. Occasionally he would send a meme or a gif to Brock, just to make sure the guy stayed calm, but Jack seemed at ease so everything had to be okay.

“Alright, rock and roll time,” Clint said at the knock on the door, standing up. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Got everything?” he asked. Jack nodded, but hesitated to get a move on. “Don’t make me drag you. I can and will do it.”

“It’s not that. Someone must have told Brock the same thing because he’s all nervous again,” Jack commented, getting up.

“It's a happy nervous,” Clint said, grabbing the door. “Just like you are probably a happy nervous. Trust me, as soon as this whole thing starts and you guys see each other, that feeling it going to melt away and everything’s going to be alright.” Clint smiled and wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders as he passed and they walked down the hall together. “And after this, you guys get to go on an amazing honeymoon, and then everything goes back to normal.”

They got to where the wedding was going to be held and Clint felt his pace slow a little when he caught sight of Natasha. Her hair was curled and down, bushing over her shoulder and pulled off to one side. She turned and smiled when she spotted them. She wore a long dress, ruching down the one side where a slit appeared; Clint wasn’t sure he had seen her in anything green except that sweater he had bought her for the holiday but it was a color he could get used to.

“See you out there,” Clint said to Jack, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Natasha for a moment. It seemed like he didn’t need to worry about that because Jack was focused on Brock, who walked closer and they embraced, knocking their heads together. Clint smiled and walked up to Natasha, offering her his arm. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey yourself,” Natasha said.

The ceremony was held in the same room as the reception, the guests already seated. Clint liked the simplicity of the venue, the brick walls, the greenery, and the lights overhead and wrapped around pillars. He liked the warm glow making everything look just a hair softer than what it probably was. He knew he should be paying attention to the ceremony, but his head was still wrapped around the whole thing.

Natasha caught his eyes and he offered her a bright smile, which she returned before she tilted her head just slightly towards the reason they were there. Clint smiled as he listened to their short and sweet vows, the promises they made. They way Brock’s eyes never once left Jack’s face. The way Jack’s finger would gently rub again a scar on Brock’s hand that Clint hadn’t really noticed before. And while Clint knew this was just a passing moment in their lives together, he was pretty sure they would have more moments like this.

The ceremony was over before Clint could realize it and he nearly startled at the cheering. He smiled and shouted as the others did, trying to stay with it all, keep his wandering mind focused. Jack and Brock might not have noticed but he knew Natasha would have. He waited for Brock and Jack to walk before he joined with Natasha, offering his arm again.

Clint endured through the photos, and met Brock’s family. He hugged Jack’s mother, and met cousins he hadn’t before. He was dragged everywhere, Natasha right by his side. It wasn’t until the food was served that Clint felt like he could relax. Until-

“And here is the speech from the best man- Clint,” the DJ said.

_ Oh shit.  _ Clint glanced at Natasha, who smiled at him. When he stood, he felt her hand on the back of his leg, rubbing it lightly in circles. Clint smiled and took the microphone and looked down at Jack and Brock. He tossed his preplanned speech out the window as he felt himself relax.

“Hi everyone,” he greeted. “First, I would like to say thank you for making the hike out here to New York for the wedding of my best friend and his husband,” he said. “I begged Jack not to make me do this, I’m not really a speech person. So I wrote down a speech that my soulmate approved of, and then when I got here I said screw it- I don’t need a prompt. So if I screw this up… it’s not Nat’s fault.”

Brock snorted and picked up his drink and cheered to that with Natasha. Clint wanted to be mad at them for the obvious teasing, but instead it made him smile just a little more. “Over the years I’ve been collecting people to be in my family because I really don’t have one of my own. People I could trust to treat me right, which I have never been good at. I added people in who I knew would love me despite all the things that make it hard some days. I mean, some of these people are saints because if I don’t want to hear the bickering, or I am done with an argument I will dramatically flick my hearing aids out of my ears. Ask Brock how many times I’ve done that to him.”

“Too many ya asshole,” Brock answered. That got a laugh out of the crowd.

“But I learned all of these important life lessons because of Jack. He was the one who found me, taught me I was worth more than I thought I was because Jack has the biggest heart. And when it could have been so easy to forget about me the moment he moved away and I was still stuck in that small town, Jack  _ always _ called and made sure I was okay,” Clint explained. “And then he met Brock, who is just as crazy protective as Jack, but in such a different way. And then I had two of them all of a sudden, two guys who would fight the world if they had to in order to make sure I was alright.

“But more important than that, they showed me how to love someone,” Clint said. “I learned to appreciate the small, soft moments because we all don’t get enough of those. I learned that it’s okay to make fun of each other as long as you did it with an infectious smile and laugh. I learned you don’t have to match, that you can be worlds different from each other, and yet you can make it work. And every other small lesson they as a couple taught me along the way, I’ve used all the unspoken advice in my own relationship.” Clint grabbed his glass. “So… I propose a toast to the best couple I know. They might not be perfect, but they prove that everyday, life can be messy and things can be too loud, but you can always clean the slate and find home in your better half.”

There was a cheer but Clint couldn’t focus on that. He hugged Brock and Jack before he leaned down and kissed Natasha short and quick. She raised her hands just enough for Clint to catch that she wanted to sign.  _ Love you sunshine _ she signed before Clint handed the mic over to her.

“I suppose in this whole ordeal I am technically Brock’s best man,” Natasha started out by saying. “And for the record, I also asked to not give the speech but I lost a bet.” That got another laugh. “I have known Brock and Jack for a little over two years now. And I can say it hasn’t been easy. Brock absolutely hated me when we met for the first time because of that protective streak he has when it comes to those close to him. But slowly we have learned to trust each other, which gets tested more often than either of us like but… in the words of one of my favorite people, the world doesn’t slow down just because we need it to.

“Clint talked about the lessons he learned from Brock and Jack, and I have to admit that I have learned from them too,” Natasha said. “I have learned that there are absolutely no secrets because when you get together with your best friend you  _ will _ tell them  _ everything _ . Everything. Like how you secretly wear old man glasses-”

“I am going to kill you,’ Brock told Clint as the crowd laughed.

“And I learned that you can write up a honey do list, but that doesn’t mean any of it will get done, especially when your partners have decided that day would be the perfect day to have a cooking challenge to see if they could trick us into pickle flavor cupcakes, which are still banned in my home,” Natasha said. Clint smiled and glanced at Jack who leaned over and kissed Brock’s cheek.

“But I think my favorite lesson they have taught me along these last few years is that it is okay not to love absolutely everything about the other person, as long as you love them enough to make that thing insignificant,” Natasha said. “Maybe it’s the way they fold their clothes, or how they put groceries in a grocery bag. It might be something bigger like their job, or being a risk-taker. But at the end of the day, what irritates you might be forgotten about when you hear them sing in the shower, or the way they dance in the kitchen when they think no one is watching. Or even something as simple as the way they look at you, the way they smile, or how they look at the world around them.”

Natasha grabbed her glass and raised it. “So here is one to Brock and Jack. I hope you two can keep teaching me more lessons along the way, and I hope we have a million more experiences together moving forward.”

There was a blur of activity after the speeches. There was dinner, the first dance, cutting the cake. Clint removed his hearing aids when the music began to blare, tucking them in a pocket as he walked around the reception, watching people slowly come out of their shell to talk, to dance. It was being dragged out to the dance floor to dance those goofy, choreographed dances. Clint had to watch what was happening and try to remember which one it was before he joined in, the music mostly a muffled blur of noise.

Clint’s favorite part was just watching Brock and Jack. Brock was a little calmer than normal, a little softer around the edges. Jack seemed a little more energized, meeting Brock’s energy that was a rare occurrence. They rarely showed too much affection in any sort of public setting, but tonight their hands couldn’t leave each other, there were light kisses to their cheeks, small shared moments. And yeah- Clint was a sucker for moments like that. He caught Natasha’s eyes, and she had to be thinking the same thing before he leaned over and kissed his cheek.

It was a few hours in before Natasha skirted over to him and grabbed his hand. She had a mischievous look in her eyes as she tugged him, pulling him along with her. And when she sprinted, he followed suit, holding her hand.

It was turning down a few hallways until they were outside. Clint slowed once he was outside and looked around until Natasha’s hands grabbed his jaw and pulled him down into a kiss. Clint smiled into it before he put his forehead against hers. Natasha only gave him a moment to catch his breath before they were on the move, out back in a small grassy patch. She walked out into the grassy area carefully in her heels before he turned back and looked at Clint.  _ Look, stars _ .

Clint titled his head before he walked out with her and looked up. Sure enough, he could faintly see the stars, a dim glow over the light pollution. He smiled and reached out, his fingers brushing against hers until she turned her hand to hold his, snuggling up closer against the cold night air. She leaned over, her head against her shoulder before she turned it to press her lips against it.

_ Want more of this _ she signed after a few quiet moments.

Clint nodded and glanced up at the stars.  _ Time for a vacation. _ He held his finger up before he dug around in his pocket until he found his hearing aids. He put them in carefully after turning them on. “So… think we can make the world slow down enough for a long vacation?”

Natasha smiled before she looked away. “I think we can convince it to… somehow.”


End file.
